For a Baby's Innocence
by Kiristeen
Summary: Draco marries against his father's wishes and discovers just how far the older wizard is willing to go to control his life. It lands Draco in a desperate situation, and despite what he may wish, Hermione is the only person who can help him. 8-12 up 2009
1. Chapter 1

AN: Repost and Rewrite  
Originally posted under the screen name of Alayyanna. See her profile for more information. : )

Title: For a Baby's Innocence  
Author: Alayyana  
Series: Don't know yet  
Genre: Harry Potter  
Rated: R (for implied violence, adult sexual situations, language)  
Pairings: DM/OfC (briefly), DM/HG  
Warnings: violence, adult het sexual situations, some language, fempreg

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowlings owns all rights to the established Harry Potter characters written into this story, as well as the entire environment in which they live. I own only Katherine and the plot -- such as it is. I will make no money from this story and intend no copyright infringement.

AN: I have no clue whether there really is a train called the 'Scotland Express', but for the purposes of this story, it exists. : )~

WARNINGS: Those who are easily offended about religious parallels might want to give a skip to this story. While there isn't anything religious about the story itself, my use of a virgin giving birth might offend the more focused Christians in the fandom. (Yes, there's a logical, explainable reason. : )~ ) Any outraged flames on this subject will be giggled at and then used to feed my pet dragon.

Not old enough? Illegal where you reside? Don't read. Other than that, please enjoy.

Summary: Draco marries against his father's wishes and discovers just how far the older wizard is willing to go to control his life. It lands Draco in a desperate situation, and despite what he may wish, Hermione is the only person who can help him.

xxxxx Precedes and follows a flashback xxxxx

xxx scene change/time jump

xxxxxxxxxx  
Chapter One  
xxxxxxxxxx

Draco screamed her name for what seemed the millionth time, but still she didn't respond. He swallowed convulsively, fear of a kind he'd never before felt, washing through him like an ocean wave. "Katherine!" he tried again, truly becoming desperate. The motel was barely standing, the walls surrounding him looking as though they could fall in at any moment. He _had_ to find her before that happened.

Blinking back the tears that made seeing even more difficult, Draco hurriedly picked his way through the debris that used to be their summer home. Finally giving up on this room, he quickly headed to the next. She could have been in any one of several when the attack started. Clamping down on his growing fear, Draco hurried. He'd known all along that defying his father was an exceptionally stupid thing to do, but it had become something he'd had to do. He just hadn't realized it would have _this_ bad a result. At the end of the last school year, almost the moment he'd stepped through the front door to Malfoy Manor after having successfully completed his 6th year, Lucius Malfoy had told him he'd be receiving his mark.

Draco wanted nothing to do with it, but that wasn't something he'd been able to tell his domineering parent -- not at the time, anyway. He'd nodded as expected, mouthing the proper platitudes about how grateful he was and how he was looking forward to serving the Dark Lord. All the while, he was mentally heaving and trying to figure a way out of the situation without ending up imprisoned or dead. It hadn't looked promising.

"Katherine!"

Nothing.

Sighing, briefly closing his eyes as an overwhelming tide of grief swamped him, Draco kept moving. He had to find her. He couldn't give up hope. If he grieved, that would be admitting there _was_ no hope.

What happened later that night, however, had swept his concerns regarding the dark mark to the back of his mind. Katherine had owled him, the grey owl reaching him almost the moment he had stepped into his bedroom suite. Her note had said it was urgent they meet. At the time, he'd smirked, thinking she simply could not _bear_ to be away from him. It had felt good, that ego swelling moment, falling as it did on the heels of the rather humbling argument with his father.

_Argument?_ he scoffed silently to himself as he continued moving, hunting. _I'd have had to actually __**voice**__ a difference of opinion for it to have been an 'argument'._

For the first time in his life Draco was actually in love. It was a heady, terrifying sensation, love was. It made him do things he wouldn't ordinarily do, like acting bravely and all that rot, like making him think of someone else's needs above his own, like defying his father. It was quite sickening really, he realized, whenever he took the time to think about it.

Mostly he didn't think about it. Mostly, he simply let himself feel.

At first, they'd kept it all rather secret. Mainly because he _knew_ his father would lose it when he found out. There was one _tiny_ little thing wrong with her. Way back in her family line there was . . . _muggle_. Oh, she didn't descend from muggleborn. It was nothing _that_ horrendous. No, her great, great grandfather had been a half-blood, born of a pureblood wizard and a muggle woman.

It had taken Draco a long time to accept that little fact, and right now, he was cursing the lost time as he continued his frantic search through the rubble. He would _never_ forgive his father if she died here.

x

x

xxxxx  
"What?" his father hissed, his voice deadly quiet.

Draco winced inwardly, proud of the fact that the reaction didn't show outwardly. "I said, I want to marry her."

"Never," his father replied flatly.

"I will marry her," Draco insisted just as flatly, not raising his voice one decibel.

"Not as long as there is breath in my body, Draco Androse Malfoy.  
xxxxx

x

x

Draco shuddered even as he kept looking. It had been at that moment that he had pulled out the big guns. Katherine was pregnant. It was his child, and no matter the insinuations his father made, Draco had absolutely no doubts on that point. Unfortunately, the tactic had backfired. His father had gone altogether ballistic and forbade Draco to even _speak_ with her.

He was well aware of what his father's objection had been -- after all, it had taken him almost six months to move past it himself -- but it wasn't like _she_ was muggle, or even her parents. For Merlin's sake, the muggle was five bloody generations gone!

He had remained silent under the quiet rage of his father, no matter _how_ much he had wanted to shout and rant, and even _hex_ his father for some of the names he had called Katherine. Draco had held his peace, certain with all the fortitude of youth that his father would eventually come around -- just as _he_ had. He just had to present the man with a fait accomplis.

The next night, he had sneaked out of the manor, having spent the day clearing out his personal Gringotts' account. He'd known it wouldn't be enough to live a lifetime on, but they had only needed enough for the summer months. There was still one year of school left, after all. That was plenty of time for his father to calm down.

Together, they had run to the one place they were old enough to marry without parental consent -- Scotland. As terrifying as the very _thought_ was, they had even left their wands behind so they could not be tracked by magic -- not easily at least.

They'd been married quickly and quietly, leaving Scotland immediately after. His father wasn't stupid and Draco had not wanted to be anywhere his father might think to look for him. Considering the subject matter of their fight, Scotland was too obvious.

It had been Katherine who had come up with a solution.

x

x

xxxxx  
Sitting cuddled together in their private compartment on board the Scotland Express, Draco's hand resting reverently on Katherine's belly, the two newlyweds discussed their options -- limited though those were.

"I have an idea, but I don't think you're going to like it."

Draco smirked. "Anything is better than being hauled back home like a recalcitrant child," he replied with wry twist of his lips. "Tell me."

"We could go muggle."

Draco blinked, freezing motionless. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Would you please explain that."

Katherine sighed. "I knew you wouldn't like it."

Draco shook himself out of the automatic horror her phrase had invoked. "I admit the very thought of 'going muggle' leaves me absolutely _cold_," he replied carefully. He wasn't an idiot. He wasn't about to tempt Katherine's uncertain temper right now. He had heard too many horror stories about what his own mother had been like when she'd been carrying him. "Perhaps if you defined precisely what you mean by 'going muggle'."

Turning within his hold, Katherine locked her eyes to his, her expression hopeful. "We already left our wands behind, so we're halfway there."

Draco shuddered. Not having his wand was something he was _not_ comfortable with. He felt defenseless and entirely naked without it. Until this moment, however, he hadn't really thought about the fact that it left them virtually magicless -- no better than _muggles_.

His eyes widened as the realization hit. He'd never spent any amount of time without being surrounded by, and being able to do magic -- not since his magic had first begun manifesting. He wasn't entirely certain he could survive that way. Part of him suddenly wasn't so sure about his 'horror' of being 'hauled home like a recalcitrant child'. Right now, he was wondering if it wasn't the best of all options. In short, he was afraid.

"Shhh," Katherine soothed, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "We can do it."

He grinned slightly, her words and touch calming him like balm on a fresh burn. "So," he replied shakily, "explain your plan to me."  
xxxxx

x

x

She had been right. He hadn't liked the idea, but even so, he'd been forced to admit it was a good one. They'd left the wizarding world behind and walked hand in hand into muggle London. Thankfully, Katherine was far more experienced at all things muggle than he was. Without her, he wouldn't have made it. He'd spent his entire 16 years completely sheltered from any hint of muggle life, and it had left him ill-equipped to deal with that world.

They had rented a motel room -- in a _far_ seedier part of town than he'd prefer as no one else would rent to two teenagers without muggle ID -- and they'd been there ever since, interacting with _muggles_ on a daily basis.

For two months the only . . . problem had come when they had run into _Granger_, of all people. Both he and Katherine had nearly panicked. If they'd had their wands, a quick obliviate, cast without a single shred of remorse, would have been the end of it. They, obviously, hadn't had that option.

To Draco's surprise, something that remained to the present, was the fact that Granger hadn't immediately reported them -- despite the fact that according to her, they were _both_ on the front page of the Daily Profit as 'missing'. Granger had listened quietly as Katherine explained -- explained more than Draco was comfortable with, truth be told.

Granger had kept their secret for almost a month now, being far more helpful than Draco would have ever given her credit for. Oh, they still didn't like each other -- though he suspected that Katherine might actually like the bint -- they had merely set aside their mutual antipathy for the duration. Draco had incentive, after all, and that helped him hold his tongue. What confused him was what Granger got out of the deal. At the very least, he'd expected some sort of blackmail. None had come as of yet. The potential for it, however, kept him on edge, wondering when the proverbial axe would fall.

A quiet, barely heard moan, jerked him from his thoughts. "Katherine!" he cried out, rushing to her side. He blanched as he dropped to his knees next to her. Blood matted her hair, and dribbled from the side of her mouth. The huge dresser that had belonged to their neighbor, was lying across her legs, pinning her to the debris strewn floor.

He cursed beneath his breath even as he carefully caressed her cheek. Why couldn't she have been in their room? If she had, he might have found her sooner. As it was, he knew it wouldn't be long before the muggle authorities came searching. Looking at her now, he was terribly afraid that it was already too late, something he really didn't want to think about.

"Draco," she whispered faintly.

"I'm here," he replied, his own voice barely audible as he fought to get any kind of sound past the seemingly impassable lump in his throat. "Everything will be okay."

She started to shake her head, aborting the movement even as she cried out in pain.

"Yes, it will," he declaimed angrily, refusing to believe any differently.

Her weary eyes narrowing dangerously, Katherine locked gazes with him. "No," she whispered, "it won't. They knew what they were doing. You need to get out of here before the muggles find you."

"No," he replied flatly, rage filling him at the very thought of leaving her behind. "I'm not leaving you."

"Listen," she insisted, one hand fluttering toward him.

He gripped it in his own, willing his own strength into her, no matter how useless it seemed.

"Go to Hermione's."

His eyes widened in outright shock. He couldn't go crawling to _Granger_ for help. It would be humiliating. He shook his head. "I'll get you out of here," he replied instead, rising to his feet and letting go of her hand. He grabbed the edge of the dresser and tried to lift it. He stumbled back in horror at Katherine's pain filled yelp.

"Don't, please," she begged.

He dropped back to his knees beside her, at a complete loss. "It's too heavy, I can't lift it anyway."

She nodded. It was as if she'd known as much already. He frowned.

"I sent an owl to her."

"What?!" Draco demanded furiously. Katherine, in danger from his father's deatheater friends had taken the time to send an owl -- to _Granger_ of all people? If she was going to do that, why not choose someone who could actually _help_?

"It was no use trying to run, Draco," she admonished quietly. "You know that, even if you refuse to see it. We gambled, and we lost."

Draco shook his head. He was _not_ going to lose her. He just had to think of something. What that could be, he couldn't fathom at the moment. Deatheaters were most likely getting closer every moment they stayed here, not to mention the muggles. He knew they had to already be in their rooms and it would only be a matter of time before the search spread to include the neighboring ones.

"Why?" he asked forlornly. "Why her? Why not Dumbledore, or your family?" Someone, _anyone_, who could actually help?

The overly loud pop of an apparation arrival sent Draco stumbling to his feet, grabbing for the closest thing to a weapon he could get his hands on. He may not have his wand, but he wasn't _completely_ without defense. He just felt like it.

He sagged in shocked disbelief, heavily mixed with relief, as he realized just who the intruder was. Granger. She nodded to him once, hurrying to Katherine's side.

"I sent an owl to Headmaster Dumbledore, Katherine," she said quietly, her wand out and pointed at Draco's wife. "Curatio recognitio."

Draco frowned as he tried to work out the meaning of the spell Granger had cast. The moment he did, his breath caught in his throat and he turned to face her, hope naked on his face. Maybe she could help, after all. Maybe her being a know-it-all might actually be a bonus in this case.

When her expression melted from determination to sorrow, Draco couldn't stop the tears that formed and fell silently down his face. "You can't do anything, can you?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with undirected venom.

She shook her head, not looking at him. "No one can, Draco."

That was it! That was all Draco could take. "You're not even out of school yet, Granger!" he snapped angrily, launching himself to his feet. "Don't tell me that just because _you_ can't do it, no one can!"

"She's right, Draco," Katherine said, her quiet words whipping the wind from his tirade.

"What?" he asked faintly, feeling helplessness wash through him yet again. What was he but a useless excuse for a wizard? He couldn't even save his wife and child.

"They used poison, Draco," Katherine said softly.

Draco's world nearly went black, the edges of it certainly greying. Only grim determination kept him from passing out, he was sure.

"Remember your promise, Hermione," she continued.

Draco frowned. "What promise," he demanded.

"Oh, God, Katherine," Granger gasped. "I can't. You don't have a surrogate here. There isn't time to get anyone."

"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded. They had to get out of here, not talk about bloody promises. "Never mind. Granger use your wand to get the dresser off of her."

Granger shook her head. "We can't."

"We have to! The deatheaters will find us before long." Draco frowned suddenly. He was surprised, actually, that they hadn't already.

"They were already here, Draco," Katherine told him. "How else could I have been poisoned?"

Feeling angry, and foolish, and helpless, Draco sighed, fighting a fresh set of tears. _This _cannot _be happening!_ he denied silently.

"We can at least make her more comfortable by getting that _blasted_ dresser off of her!" he snapped, needing to do something . . . _anything_ to make this surreal situation better.

"That dresser is the only thing keeping her alive right now," Granger informed him impatiently.

Growling in growing frustration, Draco jumped to his feet, barely resisting the urge to pace. "How?"

"Her legs are broken about mid-thigh. If that dresser comes off, she'll bleed to death internally in a matter of only a couple minutes, and I don't have the skill to heal that kind of damage."

Draco paled, swaying on his feet. He'd almost killed his wife? _Oh, Merlin!_

"Hermione," Katherine gasped, "it'll be too late soon. You have to do it now."

"You found someone?" Granger asked so quietly Draco almost didn't hear the question and he once more found himself angry at not understanding what the two women were talking about as they tuned him out again. When the hell had his wife and Granger gotten so bloody close anyway?

"_What_ is going on?" he repeated, this time through clenched teeth.

"There's only one person who can, Hermione. We were in hiding. I couldn't contact anyone in the wizarding world. You _know_ that. You've always known, even if you didn't want to admit it."

Granger shook her head, her denial, tiny vehement movements. "I can't," she whispered.

"_Please_, Hermione," Katherine begged.

Draco was about to snap at his wife not to beg a _mudblood_ for anything, when Katherine's next words dried the words in his throat.

"It's my baby's only chance."

Draco's eyes widened. "You _can_ save them?" he asked, turning disbelieving eyes toward Granger.

Granger merely shook her head slowly. It was Katherine who replied.

"Only the baby," she said, immediately turning her attention back to Granger. "My magic won't keep the poison from the baby for long. You _must_ hurry."

Overwhelming grief swamped Draco so quickly he was physically ill. Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he turned slowly to look at his wife . . . his _dying_ wife. He didn't remember resuming his place on the floor beside her, but he reached out and took her hand, his other hand cupping her cheek. His words, however, were directed at Granger.

"If you can save the baby, _Granger_," he snarled, "why aren't you doing it already?" He had wanted the words to be angry and harsh; hurtful. Instead, they had come out sounding defeated and hurt.

"Convince her, Draco. She doesn't think you will want her doing it. Only you can persuade her past her fear."

Draco swallowed convulsively. How was _he_ supposed to convince Granger to do _anything_? They were practically enemies.

"Ask her to do this, Draco. Do it for me?"

Draco nodded, reluctantly turning his gaze from his wife to Granger. He found her already watching him, her gaze steady, but wary. "Save my baby, G-- Hermione . . . please. I . . . can't lose them both." He couldn't believe he was asking Granger for _anything_ with even the slightest hope of her granting the request. This was the girl he had taunted and humiliated for six years. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, however, she nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it for several seconds.

"You can't be touching her while I'm doing this, Malfoy," she said as she released her held breath, settling into position beside Katherine.

"Why not?"

"Because your magical energy will interfere with the spell and most likely kill all three of us," Hermione explained quietly.

"Do it," he said abruptly, snatching his hand away from his wife.

Hermione nodded and began an incantation Draco had never heard before. It wasn't one of the short ones they regularly learned at school. He drew in a swift breath as he realized it was ritual magic -- dark, ritual magic at that. He fought with himself to stay where he was. Katherine had wanted this, said it would save their baby, and _that_ was the only thing that held him in place as he watched the unbelievable take place, as he watched Hermione Granger, Gryffindor extraordinaire, perform a dark magic ritual -- on his _wife_.

_What next_, he wondered, his preconceived notions of his schoolmate suddenly skewed an abrupt 90 degrees sideways, _Lord Voldemort being nice to baby muggles?_

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Oh, pretty please!

AN:  
Curatio -- medical  
Recognitio -- examination (inspection)  
Definitions for the spell come from the English to Latin translation site

I speak/write no Latin and make no promises nor guarantees as to tense.


	2. Chapter 2

xxxxxxxxxx  
Chapter Two  
xxxxxxxxxx

Draco held himself perfectly still, despite the fact that his legs had long since fallen asleep, despite the fact that he had absolutely no clue how long he'd been waiting and watching, and most of all, despite the fact that he had no idea if it was working. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs as he waited, knowing that his wife's life was slipping away while he sat across the room, not daring to touch her, not daring to say anything to her. He simply stared, his eyes never wavering from their target. He knew Granger had no real reason to help him. He had given her no incentive -- a fact for which he was now kicking himself heartily. He'd made no promises of, well, anything. All he had to go on was hope; hope that Hermione Granger really was too good to be true, that her supposed 'ideals' would make her save the life of an innocent, despite the fact that the innocent was, in fact, Draco Malfoy's child.

He could tell she was tiring, but that wasn't exactly surprising. Magic was draining, especially ritual magic, which tended to be drawn out affairs that took everything the caster had to offer -- and then some, sometimes.

Granger gasped suddenly, startling Draco, making him feel as though he'd just tried to jump out of his skin. A moment later she began trembling violently, her words becoming forced as they were gritted out through tightly clenched teeth, and it was all Draco could do not to leap forward and drag her away from his wife and child.

_Merlin, Granger! I've never known you to muck up a spell. __**Please**__ don't start now,_ he implored silently. His mouth desperately dry, his throat scratchy and raw, Draco had never been so tempted to beg in his entire life. Not even when his father had cast the cruciatus curse on him that one time -- _'You must _know _what the curse feels like to effectively wield it as a weapon, Draco.'_ -- had he come this close to doing so out loud.

He was relatively certain that had he not been afraid of distracting Granger at the worst possible time, he would have been doing so already. Losing one of them was going to tear him apart. It already was, truth be told, but Draco hastily shoved that to the back of his mind. Losing both of them would be unbearable. _No!_ he told himself forcefully. If he thought about it right now, he would fall apart, and none of them could afford that. His child couldn't afford it.

Katherine was sweating now, Draco could see that from his position nearly four feet away, the salty liquid beading up across her face. Her breathing was becoming labored and raspy, as if she could barely draw air into her lungs. He physically _ached_ to reach out, to go to her and comfort her. She had to be terrified out of her mind; he certainly was.

Instead, he forced himself to wonder what, exactly, the spell would do to protect the baby. Katherine was dying, and according to both witches, there was nothing to be done to stop it. What could she _possibly_ do that could save the baby? Katherine wasn't nearly far enough along for it to survive without its mother.

Katherine gasped and stopped breathing, the room deadly silent, despite Granger's continued chanting, and Draco froze, unable to breathe either. He nearly moaned in relief as his wife's harsh breathing resumed. She wasn't dead. Her breath had just caught a moment.

Just when Draco was absolutely positive he couldn't take another second of the tension, movement out of the corner of his vision caught his attention, jerking his head immediately toward the source. _Not now!_ Draco pleaded silently as he stared.

A dark figured strode into full view. Even so, it took several horrifying seconds to identify who, exactly, the newcomer was -- all of which he spent just _knowing_ it was his father come to finish the job. Even as relief poured through him, he held up a frantic hand, palm out, and then did something he'd never done before. He begged Professor Snape not to come any closer. He didn't say a word to distract Granger from her task. He let his eyes do it. He let his posture do it.

Heart in his throat, utterly certain that Professor Snape would either stop Granger from casting the dark magic, or conversely simply kill them all. Why was he here? Who had sent him? He knew what Snape was. He couldn't have been a Malfoy and _not_ know. He just wasn't entirely certain whether or not Snape liked him well enough to hear them out.

Draco went giddy with a flash of nearly orgasmic relief as Snape froze in the broken doorway, his expression unreadable. He wasn't going to interfere!

A breathy sigh from Granger followed by her silence had Draco's heart back in his throat and he snapped his attention back to the two witches. Granger's eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily -- gulping in huge gasps of air, more like.

Hesitating only long enough to determined that she really was finished with the spell, Draco leapt forward, or tried to. His numb legs didn't let him do anything gracefully. "Can I touch her now?" he asked quietly, a hint of desperation in his voice, his hand mere inches from his wife.

Granger nodded wearily.

"Katherine?" he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. It was more in her eyes than mouth, though, as she barely moved at all. "It worked, Draco."

He swallowed heavily, tears clouding his vision. "I never doubted for a second," he replied huskily, gently caressing her cheek.

"Liar," she whispered, chuckling weakly.

With a wry twist of his lips, he shrugged his shoulders. "It's what I'm good at," he replied, completely ignoring Snape as the professor knelt beside Granger, quietly -- surprisingly enough -- conversing with her.

"Take care of you," Katherine said as Draco leaned closer to hear her faint words. At that moment silence fell, the life bleeding from her eyes and she was left staring with glassy vacancy.

His breath caught, his chest unable to move, held immobile by an invisible tightening band. A single sob broke its way past the constriction. "No!"

He snarled as Professor Snape reached out and brushed a hand over her eyes, gently closing them for the last time.

"She's gone, Draco," Snape said far more quietly than Draco had _ever_ heard the man speak.

For long moments Draco didn't move, didn't think, didn't respond, lost in his grief over his dead wife.

"Malfoy?" Granger prodded

He winced, but slowly raised his head to glare at her. "She's dead, Granger. How is my baby supposed to live with a dead mother?"

Snape gasped -- a first in Draco's experience.

"The baby isn't inside her anymore," Granger replied evenly.

"Oh, great Circe!" Snape swore, his voice little more than a hiss.

Draco frowned, glancing down at Katherine -- no, at her _body_. He shuddered at the thought, then frowned in confusion. If the baby wasn't inside her any longer, where was it? Unable to think clearly at the moment, he returned his attention to Granger. "Where then?"

She didn't reply verbally, merely let her hand drift down to her own abdomen.

_Ergg?_ His brain simply shut down. It was one shock too many; though, the comments the two had made about 'surrogates' now made far too much sense. As Draco stared, desperate to make sense of it all, his vision spiralled down to pinpricks of light and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

x-x-x

"Well," Hermione said after several moments of awkward silence. "He took that better than I expected."

Beside her, Professor Snape snorted. "Somehow, Miss Granger," he said drily, "I don't think you've seen the worst of his reaction."

Boldly meeting his dark eyed gaze, Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. "No, I don't suppose I have." She frowned, glancing down at the friend she'd known such a short time. "It was Kat's idea. She came to me and asked if I'd be able to cast it. Not if I was _willing_ to, just if I was able to."

"And just what," Snape hissed snidely, "made you so sure you _could_ do it?"

Hermione, for once, completely ignored the tone of her professor's voice. She's was too tired to worry about it. "I wasn't, at first. I promised her I would study it. Two weeks passed before she brought it up again. She seemed . . . desperate at that point. I think she already knew she was going to die."

Snape didn't say anything for several moments. When he responded, he did so quietly, thoughtfully. "That is entirely possible, Miss Granger. Her family is known for producing seers of great talent."

"Oh," Hermione breathed. "I can't begin to imagine."

"Most people cannot, Miss Granger, something to be unutterably grateful for. To know, with absolute certainty, when one is going to die is not . . . normal. We are not meant to know such things."

Startled, Hermione's eyes widened. That had sounded like he was speaking from personal experience.

Professor Snape eyed her warily for several long interminable minutes before nodding once. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is experience. My mother knew. She knew years before it happened, and it colored everything she did."

Hermione shivered. She decided right then that if she ever had the chance to find out, she would turn it down. She definitely did not want to know ahead of time. "It colored what Katherine did. That's obvious, of course."

"Obvious, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded sadly. "Why else would she arrange for her unborn child to be ripped from her?"

"So," Professor Snape replied, his voice oddly uninflected, "you _did_ know it was dark magic."

Breathing deeply, Hermione nodded again. "Yes, I did."

"You knowingly cast dark magic, despite the fact that if it was ever revealed, you would not only be expelled from Hogwarts, but risked a prison term as well?"

Hermione could do nothing but nod. "I couldn't not do it. She was dead already, her body just hadn't caught on yet. The poison they used has no cure, you know."

"They who, Miss Granger?" he snapped instantly.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Lucius Malfoy and some of his deatheater buddies," she snapped back, suddenly angry at the whole situation and resentful of his interrogation. Where the energy had suddenly come from she didn't know, but come it did.

"What _ever_ would make you think that?" Professor Snape demanded, at once one hundred percent powerful wizard, and deadly deatheater.

It was at that moment that Hermione realized just how quiet Lucius Malfoy had kept the whole situation.

"I don't _think_ it, Professor," she replied quietly, firmly. "I know it."

She winced as Professor Snape's face darkened in sneering anger, and quickly outlined what she knew about what had happened -- hoping it might head off the worst of the wizard's ire. Of course, what she knew was pretty much everything. Katherine had been in great need of someone to talk to that needed no explanation of who, and what, she and her husband were running from. Over the course of the last two months, Hermione had been regaled with the tale of their flight to Scotland more than once, and knew too, just what had sent them running. Unfortunately, she knew equally as much about Draco Malfoy's sex life, which was far more than either she, or he for that matter, would _ever_ be comfortable with -- though she didn't share _that_ rather inappropriate information. She suspected the knowledge would never pass her lips this side of death.

By the time she'd finished explaining, including what little she knew about the attack only hours ago, Professor Snape was still visibly angry. In fact, if Hermione was to guess, she would say that her potions professor was actually livid.

He rose without response, immediately levitating the dresser off Katherine's body. As soon as it settled back onto the floor, he spoke sharply. "Wake Mr. Malfoy."

Before Hermione was halfway to her knees, Professor Snape had lifted Katherine, gently cradling her body in his arms.

"As soon as he is awake, the both of you head _immediately_ for Hogwarts. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hermione replied automatically, rolling her eyes. She _wasn't_ an idiot. But whether Professor Snape liked it or not, it was going to be a slow process. She needed time to recover from both the drawn out spellcasting and the sudden changes her body had just experienced. Hermione grimaced. It had been a painful experience, one she hoped never to experience again. She had great difficulty believing that even giving birth could be any worse -- despite the stories she had heard over the years.

It wasn't until he disapparated that Hermione realized she didn't know what the professor was going to do about her first -- and hopefully last -- foray into the dark arts. She closed her eyes as tears threatened. _Expelled._ It was a terrifying thought. _No matter,_ she tried to convince herself. She couldn't have let Katherine's baby die -- no matter the cost to herself. Besides, what was done was done, and she would simply have to deal with the consequences. Of course, when she'd agreed, she hadn't planned on an audience. She hadn't planned on anyone _ever_ finding out about it.

Giving up on getting all the way to her feet, Hermione crawled toward Malfoy, mentally cringing at having to wake him. The prat was difficult to deal with at the best of times. Unfortunately, given what he'd been through, this was _not_ going to be 'the best of times'.

"Malfoy!" she said sharply, reaching out and shaking his shoulder.

She screamed as Malfoy leapt up from the floor, grabbing her wrist painfully in his grasp. It took only a fraction of a second before understanding returned to Malfoy's eyes and his grip loosened. Sanity was a little longer returning. He stared at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

_Shock,_ she pronounced silently. _Not surprising._

"Malfoy?" she asked hesitantly.

"Tell me I dreamed it all," he asked, his voice hoarse. The pleading tone of his request, coming as it did from the boy who'd always epitomized arrogance, ripped through Hermione's heart.

"I'm sorry, M-- Draco, I can't do that."

His breathing hitched and quickened until his breath was coming in short, quick pants.

"Malfoy!" Hermione called sharply. He didn't respond. "Malfoy!" she shouted again.

He began shaking his head violently from side to side. "Can't . . . breathe!"

"You're hyperventilating, Draco. You have to calm down."

"Calm . . . down?!" he asked incredulously. "You . . . bloody . . . calm . . . down. I'm going . . . insane!"

Making a snap decision, Hermione sprang forward -- wincing as her pathetic attempt at moving quickly sent sharp pains zinging through her abdomen -- wrapping her erstwhile nemesis tightly in her arms. He stiffened instantly, flailing about for several seconds before collapsing against her shoulder. Thankfully, however, his breathing eased some. It wasn't long after that, that the first sob came. Hermione merely tightened her grip and slowly began rocking the blond as he let out his grief.

_Can this _get _any more surreal?_ Hermione thought, incredulity ricocheting through her. _I'm holding Draco Malfoy, pureblooded prat extraordinaire, and letting him cry on my shoulder!_

_Yes, it can,_ a snide voice inside her responded to her entirely rhetorical question. _How could you forget? You're also carrying his child. Of course, you couldn't just do this the __**normal**__ way. No, you have to go and do it with the kind of magic that'll get you expelled._

_Oh, Merlin!_ she thought. _Just _how _did I get myself into this mess?_

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Yes please. It's invigorating.


	3. Chapter 3

xxxxxxxxxx  
Chapter Three  
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Draco stumbled as Granger released him. The gates of Hogwarts rose in front of him, and as they passed through them, he couldn't decide whether it felt more like he was entering a sanctuary, or a prison. He supposed only time would tell. As they walked, he spared a puzzled glance at his companion. She had been surprisingly silent, speaking only the bare minimum to relate Professor Snape's instructions. While Draco was beyond grateful for that fact -- listening to Hermione Granger prattle on was not something he favored -- it was, in a word, odd. And he was finding he liked that even less.

He swallowed heavily, the realization suddenly hitting him that this . . . _mudblood_ had _his_ child growing inside of her, his and Katherine's.

_Oh Merlin! How did I get myself into this mess?_

"Are you all right, Malfoy?"

Draco shook himself, suddenly realizing he had stopped moving. "I'm just dandy," he snarled. "My whole bloody world just came crashing down around my ears, but I'm just _fine_!"

Granger winced. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. That was a stupid question. I just meant to ask if something _else_ had gone wrong, that's all."

"Merlin forbid, Granger!" Draco hissed. "I don't think I could take even one more thing," he continued, firmly snapping his jaw shut even as the words escaped. He hadn't intended on admitting that.

"Took you two long enough," Professor Snape accused, startling both of them, Draco's anger suddenly derailed by the professor's abrupt appearance.

"I'm sorry, Sir. We got here as quickly as we could," Granger replied.

Draco, on the other hand, remained silent, rolling his eyes. Apologies and explanations were wasted on Snape. Hadn't she learned that yet?

"I don't have time for excuses, Miss Granger. Come with me," Snape sneered, turning abruptly, stalking away.

Draco wasn't entirely certain where the professor was heading, but it wasn't the front entrance. Shrugging mentally, he followed. He didn't overly care where they were headed. All he wanted right now was the ability to close his eyes and just _maybe_ be allowed enough time pull himself together, to be able to think clearly. He didn't have much of anything left and was running on pure bravado at the moment.

He absently noted as Granger, too, hurried to catch up to the swiftly moving professor. They hadn't made it a hundred yards when she stumbled. Draco's heart twisted in his chest, and he jumped toward her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"What's wrong, Granger?" he demanded, tightly grabbing hold of her arm to steady her.

"Oh, God," she muttered, quickly raising her hand to her mouth.

Draco released her quickly, stepping behind her, out of the danger zone. He'd already had experience with this, and was _not_ eager for a replay.

Draco's face shuddered as Granger heaved into the bushes, horror suddenly racing through him -- not at the stench that suddenly assaulted his nostrils, but at the very tangible proof at reality. Hermione _Mudblood_ Granger was carrying his child. She would be seen by society at large as the _mother_ of that child. Thoughts of how he could lessen the damage to his reputation swirling through his mind, Draco mentally wrestled with himself. Part of him was absurdly grateful to Granger for what she'd done, what she'd risked -- though he still didn't understand why she'd bothered to do it. Part of him, however, cursed the fact that she hadn't bothered to find someone more . . . appropriate. He was fully aware, even as he contemplated the quagmire this whole mess was, and as he longed for Katherine's calming influence, that if it wasn't for her, his baby would be dead right along side his wife.

_Katherine!_ he thought with a small gasp, the ache of her death suddenly rising up to painfully twist his heart, and for several eternal moments, he lost himself to the overwhelming feeling. Hate for the one man responsible for his pain rose like an unbidden spectre in his mind.

_My father is going to kill me!_ Draco groaned, for the first time meaning it literally. The only question was whether the older Malfoy would do so before or _after_ he killed Granger and the baby. None of the nights he'd lain awake with Katherine, contemplating their future, had he ever really believed that his father would carry any of it this far. Oh, he knew what his father was, but the man was still his father. How could he _do_ this to his son, his _only_ son.

Draco closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of concerns that distracted him from wallowing. He wanted to feel right now, not plan. Katherine deserved that much, at least. She deserved his full attention for more than the scant couple of hours he'd given her, before he pushed his grief to the back of his mind and started figuring out how to survive this. Unfortunately, life wouldn't allow him that luxury.

_What am I going to do, Katherine?_ he asked silently, as he watched Granger still on her knees. _Why didn't you tell me about this . . . plan, the promise you spoke of to Granger?_ No answers were forthcoming.

A moan from Granger had him stepping forward, holding in a weary sigh. He knelt down next to Granger. Only hesitating briefly, he lay an arm across her shoulders. "It'll pass, Granger."

"I think something went wrong," she said faintly, shuddering.

Despite everything weighing him down, and the brief spurt of panic that shot through him at her words, Draco couldn't help but chuckle. "It's just morning sickness, Granger -- perfectly normal."

"But it's not _morning_," Granger whined.

Draco laughed then, really laughed. He couldn't believe the sound was coming from him, but for one, all-too-quickly-gone, glorious moment, Draco didn't feel as if he were being crushed underneath the weight of his misery. "Morning sickness has no respect for rules, Granger. As far as I have been able to tell, it bloody well comes and goes as it pleases."

Granger chuckled weakly, carefully rising to her feet. "I didn't study for this exam, Professor Malfoy, may I reschedule?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Did you just make a _joke_, Granger?" he asked incredulously. He barely caught her as she collapsed. "What now?" he muttered, shaking his head. Draco drew in a slow, deep breath. "Granger?" he called, softly patting her cheek.

"What is taking you two so long?" Snape demanded angrily.

Draco jumped, not having heard the professor's return. _Damn! I'm losing my touch._ "Morning sickness," he said shortly, "then she fainted."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape snapped, immediately leaning down and lifting the unconscious Granger.

"Careful!" Draco exclaimed. "That's my baby she's carrying!"

An amused smirk quirking his mouth, Snape cocked an eyebrow at him.

"And that just sounded . . . wrong," Draco said, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

"You're telling me?" Snape retorted drily. "Wrong doesn't begin to cover this situation, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco frowned at his Professor's back as the man once again stalked away. He was the first to admit that things weren't exactly tip top at the moment, but something about Professor Snape's words didn't fit. _What does _he _know that I don't?_ Draco wondered with renewed concern.

"Come on. We don't have all night," Snape hissed over his shoulder.

"Not my fault," Draco muttered rebelliously,_very_ careful to keep his voice too quiet for the surly professor to hear. "Coming Professor," he added, this time just loud enough.

x-x-x

Draco warily stepped inside what he assumed to be Snape's personal chambers. In all his six years at Hogwarts, he had never seen the inside of them. He didn't think any student had. He just wished that he was here now under entirely different circumstances.

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy," Snape barked, nodding his head toward a chair near the ornate fireplace.

Draco silently did as he was told, watching as his potions professor lay Granger on the couch opposite Draco's chair, doing so with far more gentleness than Draco would have ever credited the volatile man. Eyes taking in every detail of this rarely -- if ever -- displayed side, Draco watched as Snape headed directly for a set of obviously locked cupboards. A few waves of the wizard's wand later, along with muttered words Draco couldn't make out, the doors clicked, and Snape quickly retrieved two vials, bringing them back over to Granger.

He was going to give her potions? "Are you sure she should be having those?" he asked, worried. Over the last two months he'd read more than he ever cared to know about how easy it was to hurt a growing 'fetus'.

Snape paused long enough to Glare at him.

_Well excuse me for being concerned about my child!_ Draco huffed silently, glaring at the older wizard's back. _Bugger this!_ he thought. That was _his_ child, and he had a right to worry, and to know what was going on. Twisting up his courage, he rose and approached the two. "What are you giving her?" he asked.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, while I take care of Miss Granger."

"No," snapped Draco. He'd had enough of being shoved to the side. He was going to participate in his child's care, even if it landed with him in detention . . . with _Filch_ for the entirety of his final year at Hogwarts. "My wife is _dead_, Professor, killed on my father's orders!" he hissed, nearly losing his nerve under the intense glare of Professor Snape. He was suddenly reminded -- as if he needed reminded -- that this man was a deatheater, the same as his father. He swallowed convulsively, but persevered. "Our baby was ripped from her body and placed into a woman whom I intensely dislike and who, I'm sure, feels the same about me. Excuse me, or not, for demanding that I be involved!"

Ominous silence fell around them and Draco resisted the urge to shift restlessly under Snape's penetrating gaze. He nearly choked on his relief when the professor's shoulders relaxed and the wizard sighed. "Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, you are quite correct."

_Did Snape just apologize to me?_ Draco wondered incredulously. On the heels of that thought came, _I won?_ He nodded, stepping closer as relief spread through him. He _needed_ to have some kind of control right now or he really was going to go completely insane. At the moment, though, only one thought kept speeding through his mind. _I won an argument with Professor Snape!_

"This first one," Professor Snape began as he unstoppered the vial and tilted it so that it dripped very slowly into Granger's mouth, "is similar to pepper-up. It is designed to aid the drinker in regaining severely drained magical energy. It, unlike pepper-up, is safe to be used by pregnant women in small amounts. I'll be giving her only a quarter dose, but it should be enough to stabilize her condition and allow her to regain consciousness."

Draco watched closely as Snape encouraged the unconscious Granger to swallow the potion. The effect was nearly immediate; color returned to her alarmingly pale skin. _Why didn't I noticed that before?_

"This one," Snape resumed, as he continued his ministrations, "will assist with the abomination erroneously known as _morning_ sickness."

Draco couldn't help it. The corners of his mouth quirked upward. Professor Snape's words were far too dry and sardonic to be merely academic in nature, and Draco was handed another piece of the Professor's hidden past. Some time, somewhere along the line, the professor had been exposed to someone suffering from the dreaded symptom. Draco was as sure of that as he was his own name. Draco just wondered who, and whether or not the child had been the professor's. He was not dumb enough to ask. He did wonder, however, just why the professor actually had some of it to hand. What else was it used for? He didn't ask _that_ either.

"Unfortunately, it cannot be taken regularly enough to allow Miss Granger the pleasure of completely missing out on random sprints to the loo."

Draco smirked, remembering the sudden dashes Katherine had made numerous times, often disappearing from the room mid-sentence. A couple of times, she had gone so fast that Draco had wondered if she'd actually disapparated. A tide of sadness unexpectedly swamped Draco's senses as it fully hit him that he would never see Katherine again, _ever_. He would never be able to make fun of her cute little mews of distaste when she emerged from the bathroom after one of those headlong sprints. He would never be able to hold her as she fell asleep.

_Oh great Merlin!_ She would never see their child born, never see it grow. He would never have the chance to turn to her and share with her the stupid little things most parents got all silly over -- their child rolling over for the first time, its first step, its first words.

"Draco!"

Draco blinked, his vision blurred by unshed tears. "She's dead, Professor," Draco said, as if it were news, his voice raw and aching. "Merlin's ghost, Katherine is dead!"

Faster than Draco could process the fact that his Professor had moved, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug for the second time in one day. Entirely unused to the phenomenon, Draco stiffened at first, trying to push away. As hadn't Granger, Professor Snape didn't let him go. Draco gave in, slumping within the Professor's hold. He felt it rise and gasped. _Bloody hell!_ he thought, disconsolate. He _really_ didn't want to do this again. His last coherent thought as the first, uncontrollable sob hit him was, _Malfoy's don't cry,_ his father's words ringing in his ears. _'It is a weakness others will exploit.'_

"Why, Professor?" Draco demanded. "Why would he do this to me?"

Snape sighed, though Draco felt it, rather than heard it. "I don't know, Mr. Malfoy," he said quietly, his hand laying gently on Draco's head. "I do not know."

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Oh, yes please.


	4. Chapter 4

**********  
Chapter Four

Hermione groaned as awareness returned, her world consisting solely of pain. The aches throughout her body, centering mainly in her abdomen, far surpassed any she had ever experienced before. As much focus as that stole from her, however, she was still grateful that her stomach -- for the moment, at least -- seemed far more settled. She nearly shuddered, imagining being forced to empty her stomach's nonexistent contents while she was this bloody sore. Although, before this moment, she hadn't thought it possible to _more_ sore than she already had been.

Opening her eyes cautiously, she was surprised to see two sets of eyes staring at her. She let out a short yelp, wincing immediately after. "Sorry," she gasped as embarrassment stole through her.

_Of course they're here!_ she silently chided herself. _They were there when you passed out. What did you expect, them to leave you where you fell?_

Insultingly enough, Professor Snape completely ignored her apology as he frowned at her. "Are you in pain?" he demanded.

She _so_ wanted to sneer at the stupid question. She reconsidered before acting on the virtually suicidal thought. She started to shrug and thought better of that too. "A little more than I expected to be," she reluctantly admitted. She knew all too well just how the snarky potions professor would take that admission.

"Typical Gryffindor," Snape muttered.

_And there it is!_ she thought with an odd mixture of righteousness and indignation.

"Jumping in before you know what you're doing."

"Shut it!" she snapped angrily, not particularly caring right at that moment in time just who it was she was snapping at. "According to the book she gave me, minimal pain was to be expected, since my body would have to stretch quickly to accommodate the fetus. Minor muscle and skin tears -- which is what took us so long, _Professor_, in case you're wondering," she continued hotly, glaring right back at the wizard. She wasn't going to quit now, not now that she was on a roll.

"The book actually recommended not moving for at least an hour after the spell was cast, but the circumstances wouldn't allow it. As it was, we stayed until the muggle firemen almost made it to the room we were in."

"Is the baby all right?" Malfoy demanded, stepping closer, his hand reaching out, almost as if he were going to touch her.

Hermione shifted her gaze from Professor Snape to the father of the child she now carried -- and wasn't _that_ just a world twisting thought -- and nodded. "It should be. We can have Madam Pomfrey do an examination to be certain -- which would be a good idea even if this weren't spell induced -- but everything went exactly like it was supposed to."

Hermione shifted, valiantly trying to ignore the continuing dark stare from Professor Snape -- part of her wondering why he stayed silent -- as she tried to sit up. "Ow," she muttered, giving up on it for the moment. ""Okay, maybe quite a bit more than I expected," she admitted, slightly confused. "Either, whoever wrote that book has a vastly different view on what mild to moderate pain is than I do, or they were wrong."

"Imagine that," Professor Snape retorted drily.

She cast him another glare before shaking her head again. "There shouldn't have been enough damage from the growth spurt. At three months of development the fetus is still very--" A gasp from Malfoy cut off her confused words.

"Three months?" he asked in shock.

Hermione frowned deeply, suddenly feeling very suspicious. "Ye-es," she replied, drawing out the word slightly, mentally begging Malfoy not to tell her she was wrong. "Why?"

"Granger, Katherine was well over four months gone."

"We need Madam Pomfrey now," she said faintly, no longer daring to move. Professor Snape, however, was already at the fireplace, tossing in floo powder.

Hermione fought back a rising sense of panic, all the while kicking herself for not paying far more attention to the signals her body was sending her. God, she was a stupid bint. She just hoped her stupidity hadn't harmed the child she had only been trying to save. With the help of Katherine's lie--

_Why?!_

--about how far along she'd been, Hermione had severely reduced her chances of successfully carrying this child by moving so soon. If she'd known, she would not have budged from that motel room floor for at _least_ three hours -- for anything short of the threat of immediate death or capture. No, actually she'd have still left; they had stayed as long as they could. At the very least, though, she would have sat on her arse outside the gates of Hogwarts and waited for someone to come get her. Well, maybe she'd have waited just _inside_ the gates, but she sure as hell wouldn't have tried to hike from the gates up to the school.

_Why did Katherine lie?_ Hermione couldn't figure it out. It made absolutely no sense to her. The spell was readily usable up until nearly 21 weeks gestation -- though, as the fetus grew, so grew the pain _and_ the risk to both infant and host. It could even be used later than that -- if you didn't overly care about the outcome. It really wasn't recommended, however.

Malfoy knelt next to her, his expression as near to panic as she felt. "This makes a big difference, doesn't it?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it does," she replied, quietly explaining what she would have done differently, had she only known.

Professor Snape interrupted their quiet conversation. "Madam Pomfrey is on her way down," he said shortly, glaring briefly at Hermione before turning toward Malfoy. "I'm assuming you do not want your child delivered in Azkaban, Mr. Malfoy, so listen very carefully. Madam Pomfrey does not know about the circumstances surrounding this pregnancy. It is not necessary that she know. The damage is not from the spell itself, but rather a secondary _physical_ side effect, which she can heal in complete ignorance."

"But--"

"Shut up, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape snapped impatiently. "We don't have the time for arguments." He paused and sneered. "Unless you wish to see Miss Granger go to prison for saving the life of your child?"

Malfoy shook his head fervently . . . much to Hermione's relief.

Snape turned immediately toward her. "As far as Madam Pomfrey is concerned you got hurt in a deatheater attack." He snorted. "It's close enough to the truth that even _you_ should be able to be believable."

Hermione frowned again, fighting a huff. That would hurt -- and, unfortunately, wouldn't affect the professor one way or the other.

"And should she ask," he continued, turning back toward Malfoy, his sneer turning into a rather suspicious smirk, "this child was conceived the . . . normal . . . way."

Hermione gaped. That would mean that-- Her mind stalled and she stole a look at Malfoy. She almost laughed. He looked just about as gobsmacked as she felt.

_It's a good look for him,_ she thought, a bit of the old vindictiveness showing through.

But then she had a sudden, horrid thought and her eyes flew to Malfoy's. "What if she asks who the father is?" she asked.

Her gaze never wavering from Malfoy's, Hermione never-the-less noticed as Snape's smirk grew. He made no reply to her question; instead, he turned and looked questioningly at Malfoy, his head cocking slightly to the side as he waited. He was _really_ enjoying this; she could tell. _Prat!_

For his part, Malfoy swallowed visibly. "I need to sit down," he whispered hoarsely, seemingly collapsing into the chair behind him.

"Come now, Mr. Malfoy, we need an answer."

They both ignored him -- well, aside from renewed glares.

Hermione could almost feel sorry for him . . . almost. In order to be part of this, to publicly acknowledge his child, the only remaining part of the woman he had so obviously loved, he would have to eat a rather substantial amount of crow.

_Not to mention the danger we'll be in,_ she thought fearfully, suddenly wondering whether it might not be better to let the world think what it wanted about how one Hermione Granger managed to . . . 'get herself pregnant'.

"I think it might be better--" Hermione began at the same moment Malfoy started to speak.

"I want--"

They both broke off, neither particularly noticing when their professor rolled his eyes. "Quickly now," he snapped sharply. "You do not have time for lengthy debates. Madam Pomfrey will be here in seconds."

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I need to be part of this, Granger," he said evenly, staring at her intently, "but you have to realize that Father isn't going to take this as well as he took Katherine."

Hermione laughed, the strangled sound cut off as soon as she was able. "Isn't that kind of like saying the sky is blue, Malfoy?"

Malfoy snorted, one corner of his mouth twitching up. His expression immediately returned to serious, however. "Point," he replied, his voice quiet. "It would be safer. . . ." his voice trailed off.

"If I cut you out of the picture . . . for now," Hermione finished flatly.

He nodded morosely.

She considered it. It would certainly be safer, for both her and the child. Looking at Malfoy's dejected face, however, she couldn't do it to him. They would face what the future brought. She owed it to the friend she'd made and lost. Surely they would be safe here at Hogwarts, after all.

"I choose the danger," she said softly, blatantly stealing the line from one of her favorite movies. Delighting in the first genuine smile she had ever seen Draco Malfoy display, she could even ignore the muttered, "bloody Gryffindors," from Professor Snape as he rose to answer his door.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in, not visibly caring that she pushed past Professor Snape without so much as a by your leave, nor that she brushed aside Malfoy as she hurried to Hermione's side.

The older witch tutted softly, shaking her head as she immediately set to work, the first spell she cast identical to the one Hermione had first cast on Kat.

Hermione's eyes misted over. In the quiet of Madam Pomfrey working over her, she was finally feeling the loss of the friend she'd known for such a short time. She would have really liked getting to know her better. For one thing, she _really_ wanted to know what in the wizarding world, that girl saw in _Malfoy_ of all people.

"Dear child!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed moments later, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "Whatever happened to you?" she questioned with a terse frown, though, she didn't wait for a reply before beginning her magical treatment of Hermione's injuries.

Hermione felt it best to simply treat the question as rhetorical, as she didn't want to interrupt the woman's work. Her fear rose swiftly, however, as Madam Pomfrey uttered spell after spell -- many of which she'd never heard of before -- the slight frown never leaving her face. In fact, Hermione began to wonder if the child wouldn't be lost after all, and was surprised to discover that she cared very much about that. She wanted the child within her to live.

Questions and demands ready to roll off her tongue, Hermione nearly had to bite down on her tongue to keep them all inside. It simply wasn't in her nature to hold back her curiosity -- potions class not withstanding -- and now that something vital was at stake, her need to know was nearly overwhelming her in its intensity.

She managed to hold her peace, however, nervously chewing on her lower lip as she stole more than one fearful glance at Malfoy. Surprising her, he not only noticed, but stepped toward her again, swiftly rounding the sofa by touch -- his eyes never leaving Madam Pomfrey's hands as she worked. More surprising was the fact that he reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She tried to smile encouragingly at him, she really did. Unfortunately, it was a wan attempt at best. She really did have confidence in Madam Pomfrey's skills. The problem was, she couldn't seem to work past her own feelings to _feel_ it.

_Finally_, Madam Pomfrey leaned back, her wand going still and her frown easing slightly. That alone sent relief flooding through Hermione, though, she remained tense until the medi-witch spoke.

"Well, then, " she began, her tone laced with pride, "that's better." She took the time to note the individuals in the room before returning her gaze to Hermione. "You," she continued sternly, "are going to have to be a lot more careful, young lady, if you care about the child inside you at all. Whatever were you doing that caused that kind of damage?"

"Deatheater attack," Hermione muttered, not daring to meet the medi-witches eyes. She'd never been a good liar, and while Professor Snape was correct that her current -- and former -- condition could be obliquely attributed to the actions of at least one specific deatheater, it was far enough from the whole truth that Hermione well knew her eyes would give her away. They always did.

A gasp from the medi-witch, however, had her jerking her head up in surprise. She realized her mistake too late, but fortunately, Madam Pomfrey appeared too horrified to closely examine Hermione for the tell-tale traces of having lied. In fact, the older woman was not even looking at her, instead, she was glancing between Malfoy and Professor Snape -- as if to verify whatever images Hermione's words had conjured.

Hermione felt the beginnings of outrage at the implied insult. Never mind the fact that she actually _had_ lied; that was entirely beside the point. Malfoy's response to Pomfrey's questioning glance, however, surprised her out of it. _Damn, he's good!_ she thought, reluctantly impressed. _Of course, for him it's much closer to the truth,_ she hedged silently.

Pomfrey's glance to Professor Snape elicited only a nod in confirmation.

"Well," Pomfrey exclaimed into the oppressive silence, "that certainly explains a great deal." With that, her gaze returned to Hermione, who struggled not to drop her gaze in shame. That would be a dead giveaway that there was something she was hiding. She _really_ didn't like lying to an authority figure.

"Hermione Granger," Pomfrey continued, "I know you've been through a great deal, but you have a child to think about now. You simply must concentrate on remaining relaxed."

Hermione nodded. She was already relatively relaxed. If the medi-witch wasn't ordering potions or transfer to the infirmary, then she had no reason to worry -- at least not immediately.

"I've done what I can," Pomfrey continued smoothly, her words having quite the opposite effect of _soothing_.

Hermione began to panic. _Done what you can?!_ she thought frantically. _What the hell does that mean?_

"Now the rest is up to you. You must remain as immobile as you can for the next 24 to 48 hours, Miss Granger. Your body has done what it can to protect your baby, but as effective as that was, there is still extreme danger of the trauma you suffered causing a spontaneous abortion."

Again, Hermione nodded, not knowing what else to do. She certainly wasn't going to argue with the witch. "Will th- my baby be all right?" she asked, wincing slightly as Malfoy's hand clenched on her shoulder. She'd forgotten it was even there, that he was there.

Pomfrey nodded. "There shouldn't be any further problems from this incident as long as you follow my instructions," she explained.

"Oh, I will!" Hermione quickly assured.

"By immobile, I mean as completely still as humanly possible, Miss Granger," she warned. "You will not leave this couch at all for the next three hours, young lady. After that, when you need to use the facilities, you will be carried there. You will not go to the library at all," she continued a knowing gleam in her eyes. "You will sleep right here and you will eat right here."

Hermione's eyes widened; she hadn't realized the situation was quite that serious.

"If you care one whit about that child," Pomfrey added, seemly noticing Hermione's shock, "you will not try to do anything that requires more movement than rolling over by yourself. And you shouldn't even do that for three hours."

"I'll make sure of it," Malfoy announced firmly, shocking them all -- including Professor Snape, Hermione realized.

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Very much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter Five  
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Draco snorted to himself as he stared out the window that magic made possible. Less than three bloody months ago, his life had been normal -- as normal as his ever got, anyway, with a deatheater for a father. He had a girlfriend he loved more than he thought possible; she had even qualified as a rebellion, which was something Draco had previously thought himself beyond. He'd had a father he loved and hated in equal measure, and he had the typical decisions about his future to make. He shoved aside the one not so typical decision, as it didn't seem worth thinking about right now.

Now, barely 17 years old and not only did he have a child on the way, he was also a widower. He had a dead wife, a mudblood had possession of his and his wife's unborn child -- which was the absolute oddest concept all by itself -- his father was responsible for said wife's death, and finally, he was playing servant.

And no, he thought, rolling his eyes despite his current confusion, he never thought he would see the day he'd be reduced to playing manservent to a do-gooder, Gryffindor know-it-all. It did serve, however, to keep his mind off most of his troubles -- for at least part of the time -- a fact for which he was grudgingly grateful. As much as he may have hated waiting on the Griff, he hated the barren ache, that usually came during the quiet times when he had nothing to do, even more.

What havoc three months could wreak.

What chaos three _days_ could create.

He had spent the last three days in a kind of surreal haze as he alternated between staring out the window, doing absolutely nothing at all, an ache so deep filling him that he wanted nothing more than to simply break down and weep, and a kind of manic flurry of activity to keep Granger as still as possible.

He, to his utter horror, was responsible for _all_ her needs. When he'd 'signed up' for this duty, assuring Madam Pomfrey that he'd make sure she remained still and on her back, he'd pictured getting her meals, the occasional glass of water, books to keep her occupied, or any other thing she may need or want throughout the day. Of course, he'd also pictured her taking royal advantage of the position she had him in, and he'd accepted that inevitability with as much grace as he could muster. He had also assumed a measure of help from both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape -- Pomfrey because it was her job, and Snape because they were in the middle of his bloody chambers.

To his complete surprise, Granger _hadn't_ taken too much of an advantage of the situation -- at least not that he could detect. While she _did_ keep him busy, she hadn't pulled the classic stunt of asking for one thing, and then upon receiving it suddenly remember that there was something else she wanted . . . and so on, ad nauseum. She had certainly been better behaved than he would have been in her position, not that he was capable of actually being in her position . . . not that he was aware of. Magic was, after all, capable of amazing things -- even to one born to it.

He frowned, suddenly finding himself wondering if _he_ could have been the recepticle instead. Shifting uncomfortably, he realized he had _extremely_ mixed emotions about that odd thought. Men weren't built to bear children -- that wasn't exactly news -- and the very idea kind of made him a little nauseous. Mixed in with that, tempering the squicky reaction, was a raw sense of wonder at what it might be like to feel his child moving inside him, instead of having to reach out with his hand and feel it through the barrier of someone else's body.

Snorting, he shook himself from his fanciful thoughts, a lingering sense of relief equally mixed with disappointment clinging to him as he redirected his train of thought.

He had been quite put out when he'd discovered he was to do it all on his own. Looking back on his assumption of assistance now, though, he wondered where in Merlin's name he'd managed to come up with the kind of optimism that would lead him to _that_ conclusion in regards to the Potions Professor -- the man was about as helpful with the little things as a snake was with collecting eggs.

What did surprise him was the medi-witch's odd hands off policy. This _was_ the kind of thing she got paid for, after all. She came to Snape's quarters twice every day to check on Granger's and the baby's health and to give bloody orders. She usually seemed satisfied by the time she left -- though Draco had caught her giving him odd looks a couple of times -- but she had not once lifted a hand to get anything for the blasted Griff.

He shook his head again, this time laughing quietly. He'd had to carry her to the bloody _loo_ of all places! That first time was actually kind of funny . . . in retrospect; though he certainly hadn't thought so at the time. Both of them had been embarrassed beyond belief. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he was leaving to give her a semblance of privacy, and he still didn't believe it was possible for him to turn that color.

That didn't even touch on the idea of assisted bathing, which both of them had adamantly drawn the line at. So far, cleaning charms had sufficed, a fact that neither Pomfrey, nor Snape, were aware of. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have understood their reticence given what she probably believed about the current situation. What was helping someone bathe after 'stuffing them up'? As far as Snape went, Draco simply couldn't imagine actually discussing that kind of thing with the austere wizard. It'd be like trying to talk to his father about it!

Unfortunately, he thought, casting a glance at the napping source of his current dilemma -- not that he'd rather have the alternative, he superstitiously reassured any meddling fates that might be listening -- he didn't think the charms would content Granger for much longer. Not that he blamed her, as good as cleaning charms were, they were no permanent replacement for good old fashioned soap and water.

Right now, waiting for the medi-witch's first visit of the day, he found himself practically praying for her to grant _some_ activity for Granger. He could easily handle getting her into the bathroom -- he'd been doing that several times a day for the last three days. It was actually helping her into and out of the bath that was stymying him -- not to mention the possibility he would need to assist in the actual bath itself.

That thought produced discordant reactions, part of him reacting as the typical 17 year old male he was, the other part of him wanting nothing more than to crawl in a hole and avoid the whole scenario, knowing full well the potential for embarrassment went far beyond the obvious of seeing her nude.

Unfortunately, if Pomfrey kept her on complete bedrest for another day, he highly suspected that Granger would move past _her_ aversion to the idea -- her growing discontent when the charms were cast was increasingly easy to see. He sighed, his eyes narrowing. He knew, embarrassment accounted for, he would do whatever the hell Granger wanted him to do about it. To do otherwise was to risk the health of his and Katherine's child, and that wasn't something he was willing to do.

Oh, he didn't believe the _saintly_ Gryffindor would do anything to deliberately harm the baby, he just wasn't willing to risk her rather well renowned temper. Who knew what kind of effect that might have on this kind of pregnancy?

On a rather more sour note was the ever present spectre of his father to consider. Draco felt it safe to assume that if his father had reacted as badly as he had to Katherine -- something Draco had not truly thought possible until it was far too late -- the news that Granger was pregnant with Draco's child would likely send the old man into an apoplectic seizure.

Draco didn't see being able to go home for a long time to come.

_If ever,_ came the unbidden thought as Draco choked back sudden tears that threatened to fall yet again. It was in that single, crystal clear moment that Draco realized all that had happened, just what he'd given up to do what he wanted, to _be_ what he wanted. Here in the quiet, he had to wonder whether it was worth all he'd lost. Would his father ever forgive him? He knew there was the very real possibility he wouldn't be able to go home in his father's lifetime.

A quiet sound, murmured in Granger's sleep drew his attention, and unbeknownst to him a soft smile played across his mouth.

_Yes, it's worth it,_ he thought. _My child is worth it._

A sharp staccato rapping on Snape's door, jerked his attention back to his surroundings. He leapt up, striding quickly toward the door. With any luck, his freedom was standing on the other side of it. Long habit overrode his excitement and he double checked the identity of the visitor before opening the door -- not that he truly suspected it would be anyone it shouldn't be . . . not here at Hogwarts.

He grinned, opening the door to admit the medi-witch. "Good morning, Madam Pomfrey," he greeted, formally bowing her into the room. He was experiencing a rush of positive feeling, why not let others benefit from it?

Madam Pomfrey eyed him before breaking into a smile of her own. "You're certainly chipper today, Mr. Malfoy," she said cheerily, bustling inside.

"Yes," he readily agreed, "I am." He didn't offer a reason for his exhuberance as he doubted the medi-witch would see it quite the same way he did.

It faded slowly away, replaced with his more standard concern as he watched Pomfrey wake Granger and as he listened to their quiet exchange. No matter how well he knew Granger and the baby were doing, he always got . . . restless and edgy when the actual check was in progress, the continuing need for it reminding him sharply of the all the dangers.

"Well," Pomfrey exclaimed happily, "I'd say you're ready for limited activity, Miss Granger."

Draco cheered silently.

Granger wasn't as quiet. "Thank God!" she replied fervently.

Pomfrey chuckled, settling herself on the chair opposite the sofa that had been Granger's temporary home.

Granger blushed, shrugging sheepishly. "I was about to go completely stir crazy," she admitted quietly.

"Understandable, Miss Granger," Pomfrey replied knowingly, immediately launching into a description of what she considered 'limited' activity. Before the woman was finished, the rest of Draco's good mood evaporated. He wasn't going to be as free as he thought. Granger would be allowed to walk to the loo by herself -- as long as somone was with her to support her should she need it. She was allowed to go outside to sit for an hour or two each day, as long as someone carried her there. Limited walking around her own chambers was permitted -- within reason.

In other words, she could now see to her own _personal_ needs, and fetch things like water and a book when she wanted to read, but other than that, Draco was still fully on the hook for taking care of her. He sighed.

"Now that the good news is out of the way," Pomfrey began, her jovial bedside manner evaporating as if it had never existed, "I will now switch from being your health care provider to being the school medi-witch."

Draco frowned in confusion, watching as the same expression settled on Granger's face. "What does that mean?" they both asked.

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey commanded.

His frown changing to a scowl, he did so, he and Granger sharing a look containing not a small amount of fear. What could _possibly_ be wrong now?

"Miss Granger, have you read the rules and regulations governing student behavior at Hogwarts?"

"Of course," Granger replied immediately, her tone bordering insolent in the 'duh' department.

Pomfrey stiffened, her already disapproving demeanor becoming far more pronounced. "Then, I can safely assume you are aware of the . . . difficulties you now face?" she asked shrewdly, her eyes narrowing.

Draco almost laughed at the exchange, asking Granger if she had read something was like asking a bird if it knew how to fly. He would have if he wasn't suddenly very concerned about the direction this was taking.

His feeling of unease only increased as Granger ducked her head, blushing bright, tomato red. _Not a good sign,_ he thought.

"I kind of skipped the section relevant to this situation," Granger admitted uncomfortably.

"You skipped it," Pomfrey repeated flatly.

Granger nodded slowly. "I never really thought it would apply to me," she explained.

"No one ever does, Miss Granger," Pomfrey retorted sadly, pulling a scroll from the folds of her robe and handing it to Granger. "I keep copies of the 'relevant' section in the infirmary," she continued, waves of 'I thought you were smarter than this,' rolling off the witch.

Granger's mouth opened in immediate protest, but snapped it shut just as quickly as she snatched the scroll and began to read. Draco knew what the girl had been going to say. Surprisingly, he'd felt the same urge to defend her. But what could they say? Without being able to tell the truth about why it should have been very real that the 'relevant' section shouldn't concern her, there was nothing either of them could say to counter the obvious disappointment of the medi-witch.

Shifting closer to Granger, Draco tried to read as well -- without appearing to -- but couldn't manage it from his present angle. He was debating whether or not to move closer, making his intentions obvious, leaning more that direction, when Granger soundlessly handed the scroll to him.

Stunned, his heart froze in his chest, his stomach churning nauseatingly as he was treated to a full view of Granger's silent tears. "What about him?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"The rules say nothing about that."

"That's not fair!" Granger exclaimed, clearly outraged.

Forcing himself to look down, Draco quickly scanned the scroll, his heart dropping into his stomach when he reached the part that had Granger in tears.

_She's going to get expelled,_ he thought numbly. _This can't be happening!_

"You're right," Pomfrey agreed, "it's not fair, but until you're on the board of governors there's not a thing you can do about it." Pomfrey paused, her gaze shifting from Granger to him, then back again. "There is _one_ thing, however, that can prevent your expulsion."

_Oh Merlin!_ Draco thought in despair, snapping his head to stare helplessly at the woman who controlled his future. _I'm going to be sick!_

"I'm not aborting," Granger said firmly, without hesitation.

The relief that flooded Draco in a tidal wave of sensation almost saw him passing out. He drew in a slow, shaky breath, letting it out the same way. "Thank you," he whispered, no less fervent for being virtually unhearable. Granger's attempt at a smile, however, told him that at minimum she'd read his lips.

"I was not suggesting that course of action, child," Pomfrey replied gently. "It has been obvious to me from the beginning that you care about the baby you carry. If I had thought otherwise, I would have spoken of the possibility before now."

Granger frowned, puzzled, and Draco could feel himself do the same. _What then?_

"I saw no loophole," Granger confessed.

_That makes two of us,_ Draco thought, his eyes drifting back down the scroll. Reading more carefully now, his confusion did not abate until half way through his third read-through and one word jumped out at him.

He dropped the scroll.

Stumbling to his feet, he backed away, shaking his head.

"Draco?" Granger asked, her voice worried.

He swallowed convulsively, still not believing what he'd read, but stopped backing away. After another deep breath, he met Granger's concerned gaze. "The rules aren't concerned with pregnant students, Granger," he said hoarsely.

Granger's worry shifted immediately to frustrated anger. "Of _course_ they are, Malfoy!" she snapped. "They expel pregnant _girls_."

He could hear her utter outrage behind everything else about the inequality inherent in that. Draco shook his head, this time adamantly. His throat closed up when he attempted to speak, though. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again. "No they aren't," he insisted, "they're concerning _unmarried_ pregnant girls," he continued, placing the slightest emphasis on the word that had nearly turned him inside out.

If it hadn't been so bloody personal to his own future, watching as full comprehension jumped the Gryffindor would have been hilarious. It was like watching slow motion. Her eyes widened incredibly wide -- almost reminding him of the cartoons he had seen with Katherine. Her face kind of . . . melted as her jaw dropped open, a shaking hand coming up to cover her mouth. Even so, he could see it open and close as she tried to get a single word out.

It didn't work, and Draco had to admit, in a side note full of gallows humor, that it was the best fish imitation he'd seen in a very long time. He did not voice that opinion.

When Granger switched to slowly shaking her head, he turned slightly to face the medi-witch of doom. "How," he began, his voice cracking. "How long do we have to decide the rest of our lives?" he asked faintly.

"If Miss Granger is prudent, I will be telling no one of this, until or unless it begins to endanger the child or Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Patient confidentiality is outweighed only by my patients' welfare."

"Prudent?" Granger asked, finally able to find her voice.

"They will have until the first day of classes," Professor Snape said firmly, startling all three occupants of the room.

Draco spun around to face the older wizard. _How long has he been here?_

"Why?" he demanded angrily.

"Because potions class for seventh year begins first day. Both Madam Pomfrey and myself will then be obligated to pass on the information to the Headmaster for the safety of the child."

"She could always not take advanced potions," Draco shot back.

Professor Snape snorted, and behind Draco, Granger gasped. Draco ignored both sounds, intent on staring down the head of Slytherin -- not that he really thought he had much of a chance. He was arrogant, just not _that_ arrogant.

"Really?" Snape sneered haughtily. "Were that unlikely scenario to happen, not only would I dance a jig," he continued snidely, "it would grant you a precious 24 hours of decision time." His expression turned amused, as he cast a glance Granger's way. "Or, Mr. Malfoy, do you suggest she also not take transfiguration? Care of magical creatures? Herbology? Of course, even that will not grant you much more time, as every class except arithmancy and astronomy presents risks to the unborn, most of which can be worked around, but will only be so done once the pregnancy is known."

"Three days!?" Granger squeaked. "We've got to decide something like this in _three_ days?"

Draco blanched. He couldn't do this! His stomach rolled, and this time was one time too many. His own hand now raised to cover his mouth, he bolted from the room.

"Shouldn't that be my exit?" Granger asked, her voice sounding as shaky as he felt.

_Bugger you!_ Draco thought sourly as he reached the toilet.

The sound of Snape's amused snort followed him. _And you too, you bastard!_ Draco shouted, silently savage as he lost his breakfast.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Pretty please! : )


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter Six

When Draco finally exited the bathroom, determined not to let his humiliation show, he found the sitting room empty of everyone except Granger. She looked up as he entered, her expression the strangest mixture of hopelessness and amusement he'd ever seen. The hopelessness he understood all too well. It was the amusement that grated on his nerves.

"What?" he snapped, uneasy and awkward with the revelations of the day. If he were the old Draco Malfoy, there would be no confusion, no uncertainty. His own welfare -- his _reputation_ -- would have come before anyone and everyone. He would have left Miss Granger to hang without a second thought. The new Draco Malfoy, the one touched by love and overwhelming loss, couldn't do that, couldn't be _quite_ that callous. Even if he could abandon Granger to her fate -- and he wasn't admitting he couldn't -- he could not do so to his last connection to Katherine.

"They tag-teamed us, you know," she said, her mouth twisting up into a parody of a wry smile.

Before his stay in the muggle world the phrase 'tag-teamed' would have confused him, as it was, he had to think about how it applied to the situation. He shook his head in disbelief, never having pictured Pomfrey and his godfather working together like that before. The Griff was right, though, they had. "Good cop, bad cop," he shot back, attempting to maintain the air of humor.

Granger let out a strangled laugh, mimicking his head movements. "Exactly," she agreed. Their eyes catching, silence descended around them until they both looked away.

"So," Draco started uneasily, his words trailing off. He _really_ didn't want to be the one to start this conversation.

"Right," Granger added, going no further than a single word either.

_Oh, Bloody hell!_ Draco thought savagely, striding forward and dropping onto the sofa next to Granger. It wasn't like they had any choice in the matter. If there was, he would grab it in a heartbeat. The truth of the matter was; if she had to leave Hogwarts, she and the baby were dead. It was as simple as that. "You're not under the delusion that either of us really have an option in this are you?" he asked snidely, uncomfortably aware that his words came out sounding harshly defensive instead of the firmly offensive he'd been going for.

She shook her head. "I know I don't," she replied, surprisingly calmly.

Highly offended, Draco launched to his feet. "And you're suggesting _I_ do?" he accused angrily. "Why? Just because I'm Draco Malfoy I can't possibly love my child?"

The surprised look and the immediate denial from Granger wiped out most of the anger holding him upright and he sank back down onto the sofa, the highs and lows of today beginning to take their toll.

"I didn't mean that at all, Malfoy." She chuckled suddenly. "Actually, I didn't even think it, surprisingly enough."

He frowned at her, not really liking the 'surprisingly enough' comment, but not really able to refute her puzzlement on that -- considering their history. "What did you mean, then?"

"I simply meant that whether you choose to . . . act on this loophole--"

"You mean marry you," he interrupted, unable to resist taunting her just a little, and wanting it all laid out on the table. Suddenly, talking in euphemisms wasn't good enough. He wanted the bald truth laid out for all to see . . . well, at least for the two of them. He didn't give a sod all for anyone else.

She glared at him, but wilted too soon for the look to be truly effective. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "Whether or not you choose to marry me, you'll survive this. Whether the 'not' choice is something you would or wouldn't choose isn't the point, just that the option _does_ exist. We both know that if I get expelled, I won't survive long. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Vacillating between wanting to be outraged that he could be seen as even _considering_ abandoning his child, and recognizing her point, Draco nodded thoughtfully. He smirked then, even as his stomach made its protests known. "If we're talking about choices that are not really choices here, then we've _both_ got a choice."

"How do you figure that?"

"Much as I'm _very_ grateful it seems to be a 'not choice' for you," he replied quietly, almost unable to force himself to continue, "an abortion is an available option that would free you from all this . . . now that you know the full consequences."

He winced as outrage narrowed her eyes, the glare she leveled him truly impressive, but relaxed as she suddenly laughed. "Point made, Malfoy," she said softly, a touch of humor actually reaching her words.

"You do realize, don't you, Miss Granger," he offered ironically, "that this is a match made in hell?"

"Oh yeah," she agreed. "That much is certain."

"You also realize that it means forever, right?" Draco pressed. He wanted to make sure she knew _exactly_ what this was. He knew, and it was something he was refusing to think about in any depth at the moment. If he did, he knew he would lose it. For that, he _really_ wanted to wait until he was alone. This was not even close to how he wanted his life to turn out and if he gave himself leave to really consider what was happening, how everything was spiralling dizzyingly out of control, he wasn't entirely certain what would happen. "There's no way out once we're in. We don't have the option that Katherine and I took."

Granger shot him a shocked look. "You two got married the muggle way?"

"Yeah," _And wasn't __**that**__ one hell of a fight?_ Draco thought with bittersweet amusement. Katherine had loved the romance of the forbidden fruit. He'd just been plain repulsed. It hadn't been until he'd made seven separate inquiries that he'd realized his dream of a wizarding wedding was a lost cause -- at least at that moment in time. Of course, he'd still believed, been absolutely sure, he would still get it. Chock full of childish arrogance that his father would come around, he pictured his father finally demanding a second ceremony, a _proper_ wizarding ceremony.

"Wow, I'm. . . ."

"Shocked? Amused?"

"Both," Granger admitted with another small smile. "Why did you? It doesn't seem quite the--"

"Malfoy thing to do?"

Granger nodded.

"Because no one would have been willing to officiate a runaway Malfoy wedding -- no one in the wizarding world anyway," he admitted.

"Too afraid of offending Malfoy Sr."

Draco nodded. "That about covers it," he replied sourly.

"So why isn't that an option with us? And how is it that we'll suddenly be able to find someone to officiate now, when you couldn't before?"

"You mean besides the rather incredible danger if we step foot outside the school?"

"Point," Granger conceded wryly. "It would be a little difficult to have a muggle marry us if we can't even leave this very magical building." After a moment she continued. "And my second question?"

"As a member of the wizengamot, Dumbledore is qualified to officiate," Draco told her quietly, frankly amazed that she seemed to be taking this as well as she was. To him, the mu--ggleborn issue factored out, he was well accustomed to the idea of arranged marriages. They happened all the time in the older pureblood families. Until he'd met Katherine, he'd half expected to end up married to someone he'd met only casually. He knew, though, that the same could not be said for Hermione. For a moment, he wondered if her calm exterior was as deceptive as his own. If so, she was a better actor than he'd ever given her credit for.

"And of course, you wouldn't have been willing to go to the Headmaster before," she replied, understanding immediately.

"Somehow, I think he would be willing, even if not for your safety, then in order to put one over on my father."

Hermione snorted. "I think you're right about that," she said. "They _do_ seem to really . . . dislike . . . each other, don't they."

It was Draco's turn to snort. "You have _such_ a way with understatement, Granger," Draco retorted drily, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

When Granger sighed, directing another glare his way, he was ready, his smirk firmly in place.

"You were very . . . pointed . . . in making sure I knew what I was getting into," she said after several long moments of silence. "How about you, have you _really_ thought about what will happen?"

Unable to remain seated, Draco launched himself to his feet, striding quickly across the room. "I know what's what, that's all I need. I refuse to actually _think_ about it," he snapped.

He heard the tired sigh behind him and almost laughed. _Merlin forbid!_ he thought with rising hysteria. He was about to get one of Hermione Granger's _infamous_ lectures, and he should already be headed for the door. The problem was, he couldn't figure out why he wasn't.

"Back in first year, after running into a three headed dog on the third floor," Granger said calmly, "I told Harry and Ron -- sounding obnoxiously prissy -- that I was going back to my room, before we got killed, or worse, _expelled_."

Blinking in surprise, both at the lack of lecture _and_ at her utterly barmy confession, Draco turned around slowly to stare at her. "You really needed your priorities straightened out back then," he said finally.

Granger giggled, falling back against the back of the sofa as her increasingly insane sounding laughter rocked her backward.

Draco shifted uneasily, wondering if he should fetch Madam Pomfrey. Granger was really sounding like she was slipping over the edge. She settled down quickly enough, however, much to his relief.

"Ron said the same thing that night," she admitted, smothering one additional chuckle.

Draco's expression soured at that. That was just . . . _Ewwrrrg_.

"The thing is, I still feel the same way."

_What?_

"I'm not as scared of dying as I am of failing. Getting expelled, certainly qualifies as failing."

Draco's eyes widened in shock. Granger had just handed him prime extortion material . . . on the proverbial silver platter no less. "You _do_ realize what you just did, don't you?"

"You seem to be asking me that a lot tonight." She shook her head, seemingly chastising herself. "Yes, Malfoy I do, but I did it to make a point."

"What? That you're slightly touched?"

"No, you prat," Granger spat angrily, visibly grinding her teeth together.

Draco frowned at that, remembering his earlier thoughts on the subject. Sighing, he crossed back to her, muttering a nearly inaudible, "sorry."

Granger ignored him. "Are you _really _aware of how your father might react to this whole . . . situation?"

Astounded, Draco could only stare for several seconds. "How _dare_ you ask me that, _Granger_," he sneered. "My _wife_ is dead because of him. I assure you, I'm fully aware of what he's capable of."

"That's too obvious," Granger said flatly. "I _know_ you're aware of that specific possibility," she continued quietly. "You're Slytherin; to miss something so obvious a first year would realize it, would take someone truly dense."

_Okay, it's official; she's off her nutter._

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about then?" he sneered, still a bit put out. Here he was being all bloody noble and she was insulting him.

_Alright! So, I bloody well _owe _her,_ he grudgingly admitted to himself, not caring for that thought at all.

"What do you fear more than death, Draco," Granger asked instead of replying.

Eyes narrowing, he fairly growled. "Why should I tell you anything like that . . . _Hermione_?"

Rolling her eyes. "Ever heard of quid pro quo?"

"Of course."

"Well, I told you my worst fear, now it's your turn."

"You should have made sure of the terms before you spilled your guts."

"Fine. I'm too tired to play games. I'll just put it bluntly, I suppose. After all, I'm a Gryffindor, its one of the things we're best at."

"Spit it out, Granger. You're not the only one who's had a long day."

"What if your father, deciding his tactics didn't work the first time, didn't 'bring you back into line' so to speak, tries something different, something worse?"

"You really have lost touch with reality if you think there's anything worse then having my wife . . . my _wife_, Granger, murdered on my father's orders."

"And if he disowns you this time, strips your right to the Malfoy name and properties?"

Draco choked. "He'd _never_!" _He might never let me near him again, never again acknowledge me, but. . . ._

"No?"

Draco shook his head fervently, the images evoked by the insane Griff's question, hitting far too close to her earlier questions. _How the bloody hell did she _know _that?_ "He cares too much about the family line," Draco sneered. "Without me, there's no more line."

"Really?" Hermione snorted. "Is he impotent then? Sterile from some kind of accident?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, of course not." He frowned. "Well, not that I'm aware of," he amended drily. "It's not like I ever actually _asked_ him. It isn't exactly something I've ever been curious about."

Granger burst out in a sudden short bark of laughter. "Oh!" she exclaimed, grinning madly, "I can just _see_ that conversation."

Draco didn't respond immediately, just eyed her warily for several moments. "You can?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, yes," she confirmed, nodding. "So tell me, Father," Granger said, sounding uncomfortably like him, "are you . . . fully functional?"

Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. He too could suddenly picture the scene. Unfortunately, that scene ended with him locked in his room, feeling the worse for wear, and wishing he'd never opened his mouth to begin with -- but the thought was fun while it lasted.

Disown _him_? Draco shuddered. That would be bad . . . very bad. He'd never given _that_ a moment's thought, really. It was the unthinkable. The ultimate-- He glanced over at Granger -- who, surprisingly, didn't seem to be watching him -- his mind racing with everything that had happened and what _would_ be happening, Granger's damnable question making it come into focus, made him _think_ about it. The whole world, including his father, would think that--

Sure, he'd figured it could be _years_ before his father forgave him for what he'd supposedly done, but. . . .

_She's right,_ he thought with something akin to incredulousness flashing through him. He swallowed . . . hard. No matter what he did, what he chose, he was was going to lose family. _I can't do this!_ he thought desperately. How was he supposed to choose? He shouldn't bloody well _have_ to choose. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's got what they wanted. That was one of the cornerstones he had grown up with.

_And keeping the blood pure isn't?_

He was caught between two equally unpalatable choices. Well, perhaps not exactly equal. He sighed as the realization stole over him that he was willing to risk even that for his and Katherine's child.

"I--" he began, finding his throat closing off around the words. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time raising his gaze to meet Granger's. She was watching him quietly, speculatively. "I guess that's a risk I'll have to take," he said finally, his voice hoarse, and far more breathy than he would have liked.

Granger's eyes widened briefly in surprise. She recovered quickly, however, nodding once. "All right," she said quietly. "When?"

Unable to remain seated, Draco was surprised to find himself shaking. The bizarre situation was beginning to really sink in, he knew, becoming all too bloody real. The upcoming school year was going to be trying at the very best, which had been a problem all along. He sighed heavily, acknowledging that this new piece to the puzzle would simply add to the difficulty. When he had originally faced the oddity of going back to school after such a radical change in his life, he'd done so with the picture of Katherine at his side. Now, it wouldn't be Katherine, it would be Granger. His heart clenched at that sudden reminder of his wife -- not that he had forgotten her. Far from it, in fact; awareness of her absence was like a constant buzzing at the back of his mind, one that he could push aside if he kept himself occupied enough. But blatant reminders such as thinking about facing the student body without her, were much like being blindsided by a rogue bludger.

He watched Granger as he thought, his mind whirling with courses of action, and what specific consequences each might lead to. Eventually he sighed. "I think I would rather do this _before_ school starts," he said slowly.

He could see he'd surprised her again, and he smirked in response. He loved being able to keep her off balance. It was a pleasant quirk to an otherwise untenable situation. "Surprised?" he asked, wanting to know if she would admit it.

"Yes, actually," she replied. "I figured if you agreed at all, you'd want to put it off as long as possible."

He shook his head. "No, definitely not." On that one point he was absolutely certain. There was no way he was going to become a laughing stock because everyone knew they'd 'had to get married'. It would be humiliating beyond belief.

She frowned, a line of puzzlement creasing her forehead. "Why?"

"I'll answer that with a question of my own," he said with a new smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Granger snorted.

_I really should start thinking of her as Hermione. I'm _marrying _the chit, after all._

"Well?" she asked finally, wrenching Draco out of his bemused thoughts.

"Would you rather it looked like we both wanted this, or that we were forced into it?" It took only a moment for the light of understanding to dawn on Gr-- Hermione. When she smiled, he merely cocked an eyebrow in response. "Personally, I'd rather hold my head high and let them think I'm doing this because it's what I want."

"Good point," she admitted.

"Glad you agree," Draco replied evenly, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. "No one will even have to know when we actually got married if we do it secretly."

"How's that?" Granger asked in blatant disbelief. "As soon as the ceremony is complete, all the pertinent information will be filed with the Ministry of Magic for all the wizarding world to see."

"Yes, it will," Draco readily agreed, not elaborating.

Sighing in obvious frustration, complete with requisite glare, Granger huffed. "Explain," she demanded.

Smirking yet again, Draco did so. "The night before Katherine and I ran away, I owled Gregory with explicit instructions."

"And?" Granger prompted when he fell silent.

"I told him to 'leak' the story of my flight and muggle marriage to the daily profit. It made headline news the next day. I checked."

"But that was to Kat."

"I'm well aware of that, _Granger_. The thing is, her name was never mentioned. Gregory got everything right except that one thing. He bloody forgot who I ran away with."

"Convenient for us," Hermione muttered.

Draco nodded. "I was angry at him for the longest time because of it, but now, it seems I owe him for his forgetfulness."

"So we let everyone think we got married back in . . . ?"

"June," Draco informed her, "June 4th, to be precise."

"And the reason for the second ceremony?"

Draco paused. "We wanted the wizarding ceremony, of course. People will expect no less of me."

"But what? We are so much in _love_ that we simply _couldn't_ wait until we could get to the headmaster?"

"Errmm, yes," Draco replied, "that's it exactly."

"Oh, _that_ was real convincing."

"Well, it's not like it's you I have to convince, now is it?" Draco snapped defensively. The idea that it would appear they'd actually been eager had thrown him.

"True," Hermione admitted quietly, a surprising sound of apology in her tone.

_Well, Katherine,_ he thought, his heart twisting inside his chest, _I'm doing it. I'm protecting our child. I hope to bloody Merlin that you approve._

Her lips twisting upward into an irony laden smirk, Hermione met his gaze ruefully, almost as if she'd heard his fervent thoughts. "You and me against the world," she murmured quietly. "Who would have believed it?"

TBC  
Let me know what you think. : )  
Kiristeen  
Kiristeen yahoo . com

.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So sry it took me so long to get one of these up! I've been an airhead lately. (As evidenced by how long it took me to update my two active stories.)  
Thank you for every single one of your reviews, they keep me writing even in the face of writer's block and depression. Thanks again!

KlingonGal8489: The Quote Hermione 'stole' was from 'Star Trek III The Search For Spock', McCoy said it to the Vulcan Priestess in regard to the Fal Tor Pan. It's my favorite line of the whole movie right along with -- "It's a helluva time to ask."

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Chapter Seven  
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Hermione glared at the back of her potions professor. '_Oh, this __**is**__ going to be an interesting year,_' she repeated silently, her mindvoice just as thick with sarcasm as Snape's real one had been -- just with a lot more resentment added into the mix. _Bloody prat!_ she thought vindictively.

She and Draco had informed the professor upon his return to his chambers of their decision to marry as soon as was possible, and that they definitely wanted to do so before the start of school. When asked by Draco if he would 'be so kind' as to arrange a meeting with the headmaster, Professor Snape's eyes had lit up. They had quite literally _danced_ with amusement. If she hadn't seen it herself, she wouldn't have believed it -- even if it had, had a rather malicious tint to it.

'I'd be _delighted_ to do that, Mr. Malfoy,' he'd replied in a smug purr, leaving immediately.

She and Draco had shared a bemused glance, he not any less confused than she. They'd shrugged simultaneously as they silently agreed they'd probably never figure it out.

The professor hadn't been gone for more than 30 minutes before he'd returned, his expression still vaguely . . . anticipatory. He'd announced that Headmaster Dumbledore would see them as soon as Madam Pomfrey declared Miss Granger well enough to walk the distance.

That had been almost two days ago and they had less than that left before the start of term.

Eyes narrowing as she continued to survey the unaware back of her potions professor, she wondered just what it was about the upcoming meeting that seemed to so amuse him. She shook her head, coming to the same conclusion the two of them had before, that quite frankly, she would not begin to understand Snape any time soon . . . though, she did have to admit that he had been _slightly_ less abusive than he usually was. Which was something Hermione was quite grateful for, since she hadn't been allowed to move into chambers of her own yet.

She almost laughed. Less abusive certainly hadn't meant he hadn't managed his digs, some subtle and some not so subtle, about the stupidity of what she'd done. His frequent 'so typically Gryffindor' lacked its usual sting, however, as Hermione wouldn't change a thing about this particular spot of trouble she'd bought with her impulsive willingness to help.

The baby she carried, the source of her current predicament, would be dead now if she'd chosen the safe path. No amount of ridicule was going to change that, nor was it going to make her ashamed of her actions. Professor Snape could think what he liked as far as she was concerned, she thought, her hand unconsciously straying protectively to the slight bulge in her belly.

The stone gargoyle scraping open startled her out of her thoughts and she darted a quick glance at her companions. They, apparently, hadn't noticed her preoccupation. What she wanted to know was how she could have been so absorbed in her thoughts as to miss the entire bloody walk. It wasn't exactly a short trip from the dungeons to the headmaster's office.

Snape stepped onto the slowly rising stairs without a backward glance, as if he had not a care in the world.

_Of course he doesn't,_ Hermione thought sourly, _he's not the one who's about to bluff his way out of getting expelled._ Well, she supposed, she wouldn't really be bluffing perse. She really was going to get married to prevent it.

Hermione glared harder at the man in front of her, caring not a whit that absolutely none of this was his fault . . . he was simply getting an immense amount of joy out of it. If he moved any lighter, she would expect him to suddenly start whistling.

And that was just a very . . . disturbing image. She shuddered and turned toward Draco. Something about that moment struck her, and rather like a bolt of lightening, it all coalesced

_Oh God!_ she gasped silently. _I'm going to marry Draco Malfoy!_

She swallowed hard and risked another glance at Draco as the stairs ground to a halt beneath her. He really didn't look much better than she felt.

_No, I'm not,_ she thought as her stomach twitched and flipped, a wave of dizziness passing over her. _I'm going to pass out instead. Or the headmaster is going to know what really happened and expel me for casting dark magic. Or I'm going to just die right here and right now._

A gentle hand at the base of her back pulled her from her frantic mental babble, as did the breath over her ear as Draco whispered to her.

"Pull yourself together, Hermione," he chided, a seemingly teasing note to his voice. "Anyone would think you didn't actually _want_ to marry me."

She snorted, letting out a nervous giggle as well. "Heaven forbid we should let anyone think that," she replied drily, thankful to Draco for the first time _ever_ for making her feel a little better. "I apologize. Should I get to fainting now because of the intense pleasure of the priviledge of marrying your august person?"

"But of course," Draco replied hautily, straightening to his full height, then frowning uncertainly. "Well, except for the fainting part."

Anything else he might have said was cut off by the snort from in front of them . . . a snort that earned Professor Snape's back, twin glares, one from her and one from Draco. A mutter that sounded suspiciously like 'inane babble' followed, which Hermione frowned at, and considered protesting. She didn't, however, as the headmaster chose that moment to enter his office from the opposite side.

It wasn't until Draco's hand left the small of her back that she realized that the comforting hand had been shaking. The realization did absolutely _nothing_ to calm her nerves, but oddly enough, she did feel a bit better knowing he was as profoundly affected by this as she was.

"Welcome, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster greeted heartily. "Quite a surprise to see you both at Hogwarts this early," he continued, an open expression of curiosity on his face, "One might go so far as to say it's even more surprising, shocking even, to see the two of you here together."

Not daring to glance at either Draco or Professor Snape, Hermione attempted to smile at the headmaster, a man she genuinely liked. Right now, however, it wasn't easy and she suspected her smile wasn't as welcoming as it could have been. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said quietly.

Casting a perturbed look at Professor Snape, the headmaster motioned them all to chairs. "Sit, relax, then perhaps you can tell me what I can do for you. I must admit, Professor Snape was most . . . closed mouthed about the problem."

Hermione almost giggled. The headmaster looked a bit put out, and she couldn't help but wonder how hard he'd tried to get the information from Professor Snape. _Now_ she knew why the professor was reacting the way he was. He finally had information -- about students -- before the headmaster. Hermione would certainly admit that sometimes, just occasionally, the headmaster's seeming ability to know everything about everything could be . . . annoying. That was, of course, when that ability wasn't saving her life.

No one moved.

Hermione rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous. "I, for one, am going to sit down," she announced abruptly. "You two do what you want."

Had that been a _growl_ from Professor Snape? Draco was certainly glaring at her, but she didn't dare sneak a look at the Professor to find out what he was doing . . . other than standing just inside the doorway.

No one spoke and no one moved as the headmaster seated himself behind his ever-cluttered desk. Hermione sat tensely, wanting nothing more than this meeting from hell to be over with. She absolutely dreaded telling the headmaster; the older wizard had _always_ been supportive and kind and now she was afraid she was going to disappoint him.

_Better he thinks you got careless than that you cast dark magic Hermione Jane Granger!_

_Good point,_ she replied to the chastising voice inside her.

She watched the headmaster survey the three of them, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes dimming a bit as he took in their defensive postures.

"Perhaps this one time we should skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point," he offered quietly, clear concern lining his face.

Across the room, Draco nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

Hermione's nerves didn't give him time to say a single word. "I'm pregnant," she blurted, gasping as she said the words aloud for the very first time. It made it seem so very terribly real.

Snape snorted.

Draco glared at her.

The headmaster's jaw dropped open -- just momentarily, but it did happen.

If Hermione hadn't been so caught up in her own little world of nerves and fear, she might have enjoyed the feeling of having surprised the unflappable Headmaster Dumbledore. As it was, she shifted nervously in her seat, waiting impatiently to hear his response. She watched the twinkle fade completely from his eyes as he put it all together, coming to the obvious conclusion.

"I am forced to admit, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, his focus on Draco, "that is the very last thing I ever expected to hear you say to me."

Hermione barely kept herself from whimpering at the disappointment she heard in his voice. She had expected it, known it would happen, but it hurt all the same.

"And what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" he continued, his voice growing even colder.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't remember ever hearing even Professor Snape's voice _that_ cold.

She watched Draco lift his chin, but even she could tell he was just as scared as she was. That was a bit daunting, actually.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he asked rebelliously.

Snape lay a hand on Draco shoulder--

_When did he move?_

--and Draco stiffened, before relaxing. He nodded once toward the professor, though he didn't turn to look at the older wizard. He kept his eyes trained firmly on the headmaster.

For the first time in her life here at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger watched the headmaster visibly bite back a retort. Instead, he sighed and returned his attention toward her.

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that in circumstances such as these my hands are completely tied. To ignore the long held rules and traditions of this school in this matter would see me summarily dismissed as headmaster. You will still be able to sit your newts when the time comes, that is a priviledge that is removed only for offences grave enough to require wand snapping. Unfortunately, you can not remain here to complete your--"

Hermione panicked. He wasn't even giving them a choice! He was going to expel her immediately. "But we want to get married!" she protested, jumping up from her seat. She couldn't let him say the words. She didn't want to hear them. She couldn't hear them. If she did, she was sure she would pass out.

The instantaneous change in the headmaster's expression cut short Hermione's approach. The anger radiating off the the normally gentle and softly spoken wizard was frightening . . . _very_ frightening, and it was enough to make her step backward -- if she could have. His terribly frightful gaze turned slowly back toward Draco, his words coming slowly, one at a time, bitten out through a tightly clenched jaw.

"That would be difficult, Miss Granger, as young Mr. Malfoy is already married."

_Oh God!_ Hermione thought in shock. _Why didn't we realize he would know about that? It was in the headlines for goodness sake!_

_Wait a minute! Didn't he get my owl?_

Draco stepped back in an unintended mimicry of Hermione's reaction, bumping into Professor Snape as he did so. Apparently not even Malfoy knew how to handle the headmaster like this.

"Mr. Malfoy's wife was killed, Headmaster," Snape replied. "He is legally completely free to squander his life."

_Bastard!_ Hermione thought, even as she felt grateful for his intervention.

The headmaster . . . deflated. There really was no other word for it, Hermione realized. In a single moment, he went from being a vengeful, powerful wizard, to a weary man, not sure what to make of the situation.

Draco ducked his head to stare at the floor, but he glanced back up quickly, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

Hermione ached to reach out and comfort Draco, an impulse that confused her greatly. Sure, she felt sorry for him. He'd been through something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. But she never thought she would see the day that she would actually _want_ to make his pain go away.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as she realized the headmaster was speaking and she hadn't heard the beginning.

". . . . so much better, Miss Granger. As I said earlier, Hogwarts, as grand an institution as it is, is not the be all and end all of our world. You are a bright young woman, you can study on your own and sit the newts independently."

Hermione's jaw dropped. He was trying to talk her out of it?!

"Surely that would be better than tying yourself to someone who has already been unfaithful to you, or perhaps conversely, unfaithful with you."

Hermione stiffened, her resolve forming into a tight knot inside her, straightening her spine. "In other circumstances, perhaps you'd be right, Headmaster, but what happens when Lucius Malfoy finds out I'm carrying his grandchild?" she asked pointedly. They'd already gone over this. It wasn't fair to make them do it again. "He had Katherine killed because he thought she wasn't 'pure enough' to be a Malfoy. What do you think he'll do to me?"

Eyes widening ever so slightly, he turned a hard gaze toward Snape and Draco. "Is this true?" he asked, his voice gentle this time.

Draco nodded once. "She was killed on his orders after I--" His voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Because I married her against his wishes."

"Mr. Malfoy, while I cannot condone much of what you've done here, you cannot be held responsible for your father's actions. It is his fault, not yours. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Draco replied; though, to Hermione's slowly growing understanding of the Slytherin, he didn't sound like he believed it.

"He's right, Draco Malfoy," she offered quietly. "You have as much right as anyone else to live your life the way you want to. Marrying Kath was a good thing. You did nothing wrong."

"How can you say that!" Draco snapped, stepping toward her. "The only reason she's dead is because _I_ married her!"

" _Mr_. Malfoy," Snape snapped. "Do you truly believe he would have allowed her to live even if you hadn't married her, considering the circumstances?"

Hermione gasped. She couldn't believe the professor had alluded to _that_, not with the headmaster right there! And the portraits! Portraits were notorious, busybodying gossips.

The headmaster rose suddenly. "Come with me," he said, turning abruptly and heading up the stairs leading to the upper level of his office.

Hermione frowned, but followed obediently. Behind her, after only a moment's hesitation, the other two followed as well.

_What now?_ she wondered. Where were they going and why had the headmaster suggested they leave his office? Surely, that was the most appropriate place for this conversation.

Her frown deepened as Dumbledore mumbled a password and a hidden door opened.

Turning silently, he waved them inside before him.

Part of Hermione immediately wondered if, in all his visits to the headmaster's office, Harry had ever been inside this room. Simply furnished with comfortable looking furniture, the spartan room was tastefully decorated in brown, tan, and amber, a surprisingly homey and comforting combination. She had a sneaking suspicion they were now in the headmaster's private quarters; though, they looked absolutely _nothing_ like what she'd expect them to.

The door slid shut and Headmaster Dumbledore, turned to face them.

"This room is heavily warded," he said evenly, crossing to what appeared to be a minikitchen of sorts. "I dare say, it's more protected than even order headquarters. Make yourselves comfortable," he continued overly brightly, his back to them as he opened and closed cupboards and drawers. "Anyone up for some tea?"

A chorus of, 'No, sirs,' were followed by silence, broken only by the sounds of Dumbledore's movements.

Hermione trembled, her fatigue growing despite her efforts to ignore it. It had been a long day already, and it hadn't even really started yet. She sat; a heartfelt sigh escaping as she relaxed into the most comfortable chair it had ever been her pleasure to sit in. That earned her the instant attention of both Snape and Draco.

"What?" she asked defensively. "It's comfortable."

They both rolled their eyes at her. Despite the tension, Hermione almost laughed at their nearly identical movements -- sneer included. It was simply too normal for this entirely outrageous situation. They did sit, however, and Hermione was suddenly forced to stifle her laughter again as they _both_ tried so very hard not to relax completely. She had a sneaking suspicion that the chairs had been charmed.

Her attention was rather abruptly jerked back to the problem at hand when Dumbledore stepped toward them, tea service in hand. He set three identical teacups down on the low table without a word, one in front of each of them, as well as one in front of himself, blatantly disregarding the fact that they'd declined his offer.

With a wave of his hand, he silently encouraged them to doctor the drinks to their individual taste -- which each of them did with varying degrees of reluctance. It wasn't until each of them, the headmaster included, had taken a drink, that the deceptively mild mannered wizard pinned each of them with a hard, knowing look.

"So," he began quietly, taking a second sip of his tea, "perhaps now that we're assured of complete privacy, one of you would like to tell me what's really happening here?"


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I apologize heartily for the extended absence. I've got a lot of this now written, so several chapters should go up fairly quickly. : )

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Chapter Eight  
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Silence reigned for several long moments before two voices overlapped.

"I-- I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione protested; though, she clearly heard Draco respond as well.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

Hermione cringed mentally, nearly rolling her eyes. They had sounded _real_ convincing. While she had never been any good at lying, she had assumed Draco would be. He certainly had done so often enough. Unfortunately, by the look of things, he wasn't any better than she was . . . at least not to the headmaster. For a moment she idly wondered if the headmaster intimidated Draco.

The wizard in question eyed them both, even sparing a disappointed glance for Professor Snape, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to sink back into her oh-so-comfortable chair and disappear from sight.

_Oh, please don't look at me like that. I'll cave. I know I will!_

She really hated disappointing the headmaster. It was second on her most feared list. Well, maybe third. He was above even her _parents_! She bit her lip to keep from spilling everything as her conscience was urging her to do. Only her great fear that she had gone too far for even the headmaster's famous tolerance kept her silent.

When no one spoke at the headmaster's words, nor at his piercing gaze, he shook his head slightly, and carefully set down his tea cup.

"On the surface of things," he began, his continuing disappointment clear in his soft, hurt tone, "it looks like young Mr. Malfoy here, got married -- to someone other than you -- while simultaneously, or nearly so, creating a child with you."

He paused, clearly gathering his thoughts, and Hermione fidgeted restlessly as she barely resisted the urge to throw a quick, nervous glance in Draco's direction.

"And then we have you," he continued, sifting his gaze toward her, seemingly staring into her very soul. "I am sorry, Miss Granger, but during your years here at Hogwarts, you have firmly established a reputation for yourself. . . ."

Professor Snape snorted quietly.

Dumbledore ignored the sound, his intense eyes never even flickering from hers. "One you are blasting into non-existance with your current behavior.

Hermione stiffened, not entirely certain whether the headmaster had just insulted her, or not. She opted for simply playing dumb. "I don't understand," she said quietly. Which was actually true, as far as it went; she didn't understand what he'd just said, beyond the fact that was something about the way she was acting that had him suspicious that not all was as it seemed.

While the wizard was right, it certainly wasn't going to be her that verified it. She had absolutely no wish to test the boundaries of his generosity.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Very well, let me ask you this one thing, then. Would the bright, ambitious young lady that advocated for the rights of house elves so fervently that the house elves themselves protested, the same young lady that bullies her two male best friends into doing their homework, who stands up for anyone being wronged, regardless of the possible cost to herself, tell the man who apparently stands guilty of infidelity . . at the very least, 'you did nothing wrong'?"

_Shit!_ He was right . . . if this had truly been as it seemed, she wouldn't have put up with it. She would have been furious, beyond furious, really. It was beginning to sink in that they really hadn't worked out the tiny details, and that this wasn't going to work.

"I simply meant that he wasn't wrong to marry Kathryn, that his father was the one who was in the wrong."

"Really?" the headmaster asked doubtfully, and Hermione panicked further.

Why weren't Draco or Professor Snape helping her?

"Even though he apparently did so, when you were already pregnant? If I'm any judge at all, you're at least 4 months along, if not more."

She had no response to that. She bit her lip, turning her gaze down to her lap, where her hands were clamped tightly together.

"No pat answer, Miss Granger?" the headmaster asked finally. "No reason I should believe you would align yourself with a young man that has not only proven to be untrustworthy, but to have a rather heinous disre--?"

A faint sound of denial from Draco cut off the headmaster's words and snapped Hermione's head up instantly. She found that not only did Draco have his lower lip firmly between his teeth, but the headmaster's intimidating gaze was no longer on her. Instead, it was on Draco.

"You would care to say something, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, Sir."

Rolling his eyes, Professor Snape huffed, pulling himself upright, sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. "Perhaps, Albus, you should give some thought to the fact that _sometimes_ it is better to leave possible secrets just that; secret."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, seemingly agreeing. "And if I were anyone _other_ than the headmaster of this school, I would tend to accept that. I cannot, however, as I am responsible for everyone inside this castle, not just those inside this room."

Hermione slumped, and she couldn't help but notice that Draco had done the same. Even Professor Snape seemed . . . defeated; though, how she recognized that, she had no clue. The professor hadn't moved so much as an inch.

She was about to lose her battle with herself, when Draco began speaking softly.

"It's all my fault, Headmaster," he said.

Hermione dropped her gaze back to her lap, sighing in relief that it wasn't her to tell the tale. She listened, though, as Draco told the entire sordid story, from beginning to end. At one point, her eyes widened -- it felt like comically -- when Draco began revealing the uncertainty he'd gone through in the beginning.

_Kathryn wasn't a pureblood?!_ Hermione wondered in amazement. She wasn't sure what it all meant, but she did know one thing with absolute certainty. Her entire world view of one Draco Malfoy had just shifted several meters left of center.

As Draco finished speaking, his voice trailing off into nothingness, Hermione was sure she was now doomed. She could feel the Headmaster's eyes on her as surely as if they were actually touching her. She dreaded looking up to see his disappointment, part of her telling herself to not look, to keep her eyes firmly down. She did look up, however, and was surprised to see not disappointment, but hurt.

_What?_

"I wish you had felt you could come to me, Miss Granger. I have obviously failed you, if you thought that such a selfless act would garnish you my anger, or punishment."

Hermione blinked. _What?_ she thought numbly. _I'm not in trouble?_

A kind of hazy detachment filled her mind as relief -- of a sort -- flooded her. She began trembling as everything crashed in on her and she barely heard Professor Snape's angry words directed at the headmaster.

"It all goes to intent, Severus. You know that as well as I."

"Right," Professor Snape snapped angrily, "like little Miss Gryffindor herself couldn't _possibly_ have any sort of alterior motive in doing what she did."

"Shut up!" Draco shouted, cutting off any reply the headmaster might have made.

Hermione's head snapped back up to stare incredulously. Not only that, but she was pretty sure she was going to give herself whiplash if she kept this up.

"Pardon me?" Professor Snape hissed, his voice soft and deadly, his entire stance stiff and offended as he turned slowly to face an angry Draco Malfoy.

Hermione gulped, utterly certain that war was about to break out in the headmaster's private quarters.

"Hermione saved my baby, at tremendous risk to herself. She gained nothing, could gain nothing. She saw what happened to Kathryn. I owe her!" And here, Draco began looking a little shell-shocked. "I'll not have you denegrating what she did."

Snape's eyes were narrowed as he glared at Draco, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He sneered as he spoke. "And carrying the next Malfoy has absolutely no advantages, of course."

"Oh, yes, _how_ could I forget. She now has the honor of being at the top of my father's hit list."

"Actually, I'm not," Hermione said suddenly, decisively, and immediately found herself the focus of three confused men. She almost faltered; almost changed her mind.

"Huh?" Draco asked inelegantly. "How exactly do you think you won't be at the top of my father's list?"

"Perhaps you would care to explain what you meant with that inane comment, Miss Granger?"

"I meant precisely what I said, Professor," Hermione responded, not caring a whit that it was a professor she was addressing. A plan was forming in her mind, one that, if she understood anything at all about wizarding laws, would help them all. Oh, it wouldn't help if Draco's father did, indeed, decide to disown him, but it would keep Draco out of an enraged father's hands if the older wizard decided on a far different route. "I am not carrying the next Malfoy. I am carrying the next Granger."

"What?!" twin Slytherin voices exclaimed in outraged anger.

Eyes, though once again dancing with the mirth the headmaster was so famous for, were still perplexed. "I find myself somewhat confused as well, Miss Granger, and would muchly appreciate you explaining your . . . explanation."

Fighting a rather maniacal grin, Hermione didn't respond directly. Instead, she asked a question. "Draco and I already discussed the possibility that his father might disown him for this." She ignored the surprised look on Professor Snape's face. "However, what if Draco's father doesn't do that. What if he decides, instead, to pull him home? He could do that, couldn't he?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, he could," the headmaster agreed solemnly. "Legally, there would be nothing I could do to stop him."

She could almost hear Draco's convulsive swallow.

"And if he were no longer, legally, a Malfoy?"

The light in the headmaster's eyes increased exponentially as understanding dawned. "Brilliant, Miss Granger, simply brilliant. Now, you only face the challenge of convincing young Mr. Malfoy of the necessity."

"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded through clenched teeth. "You promised!"

"I am breaking no promises!" Hermione snapped, angry that Draco would think that of her.

Draco sneered, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "We talked about this, _Granger_. We agreed that we would acknowledge the child as _mine_.

_Oh!_

"And we will," Hermione quickly assured.

Professor Snape scoffed. "And how pray-tell are you going to do that _and_ declare the child a Granger? You are contradicting yourself. Typical, really."

"Severus," the headmaster cut in softly, before Hermione could retort, placing a hand on the potions professor's shoulder. "Let them work it out."

She ignored the frustrated, angry stare Professor Snape leveled at the headmaster, instead, focusing her attention on Draco, willing him to work it out. He was glaring at her, though, impatiently waiting. It didn't seem like he was going to figure it out anytime soon. She sighed. She was tired of always explaining.

Before she could, however, Professor Snape gasped. Both she and Draco whipped around to face the visibly startled professor. Utterly gobsmacked, the wizard stared at her. "You mean for him to take your name, instead of you taking his."

"What?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously, turning outraged eyes toward her. "Tell him he's insane, Granger."

Hermione huffed a short laugh. "You expect me to tell Professor Snape, the terror of Gryffindors everywhere, that he's insane," she repeated flatly.

"Yes!"

The wizard in question actually laughed. It was more of an amused snort, perhaps, but he laughed none-the-less.

Draco, on the other hand, let out a frustrated growl, not appreciating her humor. "Granger!"

She supposed she understood and smiled sadly, not entirely certain she could convince him. "He's not insane, Draco. In fact, he's right."

Fortunately, before Draco could explode again, the headmaster cut in gently.

"Perhaps we should all sit back down. I understand what Miss Granger is attempting, and if you allow it, Mr. Malfoy. It will work to keep you out of your father's hands."

Draco frowned, but did as suggested; though, he sat rigidly at the very edge of his seat. He looked in Professor Snape's direction, and Hermione couldn't help but follow his gaze.

The professor's expression was now guarded, and Hermione realized that his visible surprise was a rare thing she had witnessed. He seemed to be . . . plotting, however. Perhaps he realized the potential. She just hoped he would actually support her, despite his dislike of Gryffindors in general, and of her specifically. She didn't think Draco would be willing to do this, just on her and the headmaster's say-so, not if his head of house was against it.

x-x-x

Draco was furious. Actually, he didn't think there was a word strong enough for how he felt. He didn't like being played, and he was suddenly feeling very much like a pawn in some Gryffindor game in which the rules were completely incomprehensible. He sat utterly still, breathing deeply until he was relatively certain he could maintain control of himself. Somehow, he didn't think he would survive unscathed if he let loose a second time. The first time was something of a miracle, and he was rather grateful he hadn't been roasted by his house head even before he'd finished insanely ranting at the ultimate Slytherin.

"I'm sure one or the other of your parents has you well versed in tradtional marriage customs," the barmy headmaster suggested, drawing Draco from his self-absorption.

He nodded, barely managing to not roll his eyes. That was a rather obvious statement. What pureblood worthy of the claim wasn't well versed. "So what?"

"Tell me, then, what happens for the young lady in question in regard to familial status."

Frowning, wanting nothing to do with this utterly assinine conversation, he dutifully recited. "Once married, the young witch falls under the jurisdiction of the family she has married into, forsaking loyalty and affiliation with her former family in favor of the name she has adopted."

What that had to do with him, he couldn't figure out. He wasn't a witch.

"In simpler words," the headmaster added smoothly, "if she has yet to reach her majority, she no longer answers to her father, but to her husband, or if he is underage as well, her husband's father."

"Yes, so?" Draco agreed, barely keeping his tone the proper side of respectful. "In case you've forgotten, or haven't noticed. I'm not a witch."

"Mr. Malfoy, do not be deliberately obtuse!" Professor Snape snapped. "Your gender does not matter in the least. If you marry into the Granger family, instead of Miss Granger marrying into the Malfoy family. The two of you will essentially be . . . switching roles."

Draco blinked, looking back and forth between his head of house and the headmaster. "That would work?" he asked, stunned.

The headmaster simply nodded.

"Yes, it would," Snape said softly, continuing nearly under his breath, "loathe though I am to admit it."

Draco thought it through. Both of them seemed sure it would work. The idea sat very uneasily inside him. He didn't like it at all. In fact, he hated it; hated it more than marrying the chit in the first place.

"But I _like_ being a Malfoy," he protested, his voice far more whiny than he would have preferred. "I don't want to be a," he shuddered, "_Granger_."

Snape rolled his eyes, and Draco resented that.

"And if your father disowns you? You won't have any name at all. None of you will." Professor Snape paused. "Not even your child."

Draco's heart clenched. He hadn't thought of that. The professor had truly struck a low blow. In effect, having no last name would render both him and his child -- regardless of its 'parents' marital status at its birth -- effectively illegitimate; bastards to higher wizarding society. Which was, surprisingly enough, worse than being a half-blood.

He couldn't do that to Kathryn's child. Grimacing, eyes closed, he whispered. "Alright, I agree."


	9. Chapter 9

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Chapter Nine  
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The hours following the meeting in the headmaster's quarters flew by unutterably fast. Decisions had to be made, plans plotted out, alternative scenarios set in place, and it left all participants figuratively gasping for breath.

"Now, since we are relying so heavily on the traditional laws, we must follow _all_ of the traditions," the headmaster said firmly. "If we do not, we could leave ourselves vulnerable to Lucius."

Hermione groaned, and Draco had to admit that he wanted to as well. What was the old codger on about now? He quickly reviewed everything they'd covered and eventually managed to find the one thing they had not discussed. He gaped. Surely the headmaster didn't think his father would fork over a dowry for a bride he would never approve of, not even if all nine planes of hell froze over at once.

"What could _possibly_ be left?" Hermione asked, her voice beyond exasperated.

Draco almost laughed. It was reassuring to know he wasn't the only one capable of descending into whining.

"The dowry," Dumbledore replied. "It must be paid in order to comply with the very tradition we are invoking to protect all of you."

The urge to laugh grew almost too much to fight, when Granger turned to the headmaster, her expression saying that the headmaster was incurably senile -- as clearly as if she'd said it out loud. "And just how on earth are we going to get Mr. Malfoy to pay a bloody dowry?" she asked in blatant disbelief.

Professor Snape smirked. "We won't be."

"We won't?" Draco asked, knowing he looked as confused as Granger did.

"No," he replied, his smirk deepening. "A dowry is paid to the bride's family."

Draco rolled his eyes. That bloody well went without saying. "And again, I ask--" He cut himself off, glaring at his head of house. No way! "I am not a _bride_!"

"How much?" Granger asked bluntly, cutting off any response to Draco's outburst.

"Well," Snape drawled snidely, "regardless of what Mr. Malfoy's father would, or would not, do in regard to this marriage, you will technically be depriving the Malfoy family of its sole heir."

Granger nodded impatiently. "Which means how much, exactly, after being translated into cold hard cash. What's a life worth these days."

Snape scowled, looking like he wished to leave Gryffindor in negative points for the next decade and Granger in detention until she graduated. "It means a higher than normal dowry. I would say on the order of 25,000 galleons."

Draco gaped . . . again. It was getting to be a bad habit; one he was determined to break immediately. That was triple the going dowry rate. Despite himself, and his determination to be outraged at the position he was in, he felt a bit of misplaced pride that Snape thought he was worth that much. Especially considering he would pretty much be bringing jack-all to the marriage -- at least in terms of money or property. He had enough galleons left from his personal vault to obtain his school supplies, and a modest -- for him -- allowance for the next year.

"Of course, we will assist with the dowry, Miss Granger."

"We will?" Snape asked flatly

"There is no need for that," Hermione demurred before the headmaster could comment and suddenly she was once again at the center of attention.

Professor Snape mumbled something along the lines of 'spoiled Gryffindor brats' under his breath before speaking up in a near snarl. "You are so sure your parents will spend such a large sum of money, Miss Granger?"

"No. I'm not even going to ask them to."

Draco's attention was immediately riveted on the Griff. If he was understanding her correctly. . . .

"I have a trust fund, set up by my great grandmother. The stipulations on it are that I cannot touch the principal until I turn 21 or get married, whichever comes first."

"That doesn't do a lot of good, if you can't touch it until after your married," Snape sneered, condescending. "The dowry must be paid _before_hand, you silly girl."

Granger glared at Snape briefly, before returning her attention to the headmaster and continuing as if the wizard had never spoken. "I do, however, receive a monthly stipend, have done so since I was 10. I haven't needed most of it, not even after starting Hogwarts, since my parents have insisted on paying for all my needs. My parents and I opened an account for me early on. They handed full control of it over to me on my 15th birthday. The amount accrued in that account will be sufficient to cover both the dowry and anything else I might need for the coming year."

He _had_ understood her! Draco felt a great amount of relief. He may still be marrying a mudblood, but at least she was a rich mudblood. That was something, at least.

"Wonderful!" the headmaster enthused.

"I just have one question."

"Just one?" Snape questioned drily.

Granger huffed, but otherwise ignored the sarcasm.

"What's that?" the headmaster asked calmly, clearly amused.

"Should I send the money in galleons or pounds?" She frowned a moment, the wheels of thought plainly turning. "Or would sending the dowry in muggle funds be _too_ much of an insult?"

Then Draco heard something he thought he would never, _ever_ hear; Professor Snape laughing. This was no light chuckle either. For the third time today, Draco found himself feeling completely off balance.

"If you're not careful, Miss Granger, hanging around Slytherins will corrupt you completely."

Granger finally turned to face the usually dour professor, smirking, clearly recognizing a compliment, Snape style, when she heard one. "That's not a Slytherin thing, Professor," she denied. "_That_ is a woman thing."

"Surely, you're not suggesting that all women are Slytherin at heart," Snape smirked.

Granger laughed, actually laughed, at the snarky comment. "Of course not, Professor. I'm saying, all women with a score to settle can be the most vengeful creatures in the world."

_That settles it,_ Draco thought as the Professor's expression darkened. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I'm marrying a madwoman," which completely broke the building tension between Granger and the professor -- much to Draco's chagrin, considering that wasn't what he'd intended. He hadn't actually intended to say it out loud, at all. Sounds of laughter, quickly stifled, radiated around him. Unfortunately, to his disappointment, he couldn't maintain his own pique at being the cause of it and soon found his own lips twitching upward into a reluctant chuckle.

He did wonder, briefly, why Granger's last comment had upset the professor, though. Frankly, he couldn't see anything wrong with the Griff wanting to get back at his father. She and Kathryn had been friends, after all. Before he could figure it out, however, the headmaster stood, effectively cutting off that train of thought.

"How difficult will it be for you to access those funds, Miss Granger," the older wizard asked. "I have to confess that I do not know much about muggle banking."

Granger shrugged. "Not difficult at all," she replied easily. "I'll just need to stop by my home to get my ID before going to my bank." She started to get up, then frowned, making a sound reminiscent of a growl. "In fact, it'll be easier than getting out of this blasted chair!" she snapped.

Draco _very_ quickly hid any signs of his urge to smirk. Granger wasn't really that big yet, and if she'd had time to get used to it, like Kathryn had, she probably wouldn't be having troubles. He was actually kind of surprised she wasn't more off balance than she seemed to be, all things considered. He stepped forward, even before the two other wizards managed to hide their amusement -- not that Professor Snape was exactly trying very hard -- and put out a hand to help Granger to her feet.

A jolt of surprise shot through him as she smiled gratefully at him. Granger had made all manner of expressions toward him, she'd smirked, sneered, frowned, glared, and even kind of, sort of, grinned -- in a sad resigned kind of way. Never before now had he seen a true smile directed at him, not from her. Strangely enough, it felt sort of good to have put that smile there. As grateful as he was to her for the life of his and Kathryn's child, he hadn't expected to feel good about anything about this situation, least of all simply making her smile. It was . . . odd.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured.

"Excellent. Professor Snape will escort you home and to the bank, then."

Draco turned startled eyes toward the headmaster, even as Hermione nodded and Professor Snape exploded from his seat.

"I will!?"

"Is that safe?" Draco asked overtop of his house head's startled objection.

"Quite, Mr. Malfoy. Even if your father should be aware of the friendship that developed between young Mrs. Malfoy and Miss Granger, he should have no way of knowing any of these recent, and rather unbelievable, circumstances. Until the two of you actually marry, Miss Granger should be in no more danger than she has always been in."

Draco nodded. It made sense. He still didn't feel easy about it, however. That was his child she was carrying and the fact that Hermione was 'not in any _more_ danger', didn't mean she wasn't _in_ danger. He had the feeling he would not be able to relax until such time as his new fiancee and child returned to the school.

x-x-x

As she and Professor Snape walked toward the perimeter of the anti-apparation wards, Hermione kept herself from fidgeting only with every ounce of her will power. While her parents shouldn't be home right now, it being mid-day on a Monday and all, it was possible. It would be difficult, at best, to explain what they were doing there without getting into a discussion of things she _really_ didn't want to discuss. A hand drifted down to her swollen belly -- currently hidden under a very specific disallusionment charm -- lightly caressing it. As soon as she had thought of it, she'd set a note home to let her parents know she was 'spending time with a friend' for a few days, so they wouldn't be worried about that. What she _hadn't_ done, was tell them anything about what had happened. She hadn't told them that the friend she was staying with wasn't actually living anymore, nor had she told them about her sudden and very unexpected pregnancy. Right now, she really didn't need the fallout from that little--

_**Little?!**_

--revelation. She knew it would be worse later on, but she just couldn't face their sure disappointment in what they would believe was her irresponsibility. She certainly wasn't about to tell them the truth. She snorted indelicately. That would go over even worse. Professor Snape cast her a dark look, but she completely ignored him. _Their_ perfect little girl casting dark magic spells? She could hear it now. It would start with how the school had obviously corrupted her and go down hill from there. She would be lucky if she saw the outside of her bedroom before she turned eighteen.

"If you are finished with whatever thoughts could possibly be filling your tiny brain," Professor Snape sneered, "we are now past the wards."

Valiantly resisting both, rolling her eyes, and letting out an indignant huff, Hermione moved closer to her prickly professor. She knew well what would be required for him to apparate the both of them, and quite frankly, she wasn't looking forward to it. They had to touch, and not merely hand holding either. Apparating someone other than yourself required the apparating witch or wizard to be in full contact with the person they were apparating . . . full body contact. She stopped moving just as she entered what she would consider his 'personal space'; she wasn't going to be the one to initiate contact. As far back as she could remember she had never seen anyone actually touch the man, and she wasn't going to be the first one . . . at least not at her instigation.

Professor Snape didn't bother to hide or prevent _his_ eye roll, and before Hermione could react, he'd reached out and in one seemingly choreographed move, turned her around and pulled her against him. In the blink of an eye she found herself not there. That was the only description she could find for the feeling of apparation. For a split second it felt like she simply didn't exist. Then it was over and she found herself released as quickly as they'd appeared. She couldn't quite hold back a slight gasp at the suddenness of it all. It was only then that it occured to her to wonder how the Professor knew where to apparate _to_. As far as she knew the professor had never been anywhere near her home before now, and they were near her home. She easily recognized the park, she had played in when she was younger. It was less than a 1/2 mile from her home.

She turned to ask, but no sooner had she opened her mouth when the professor cut her off.

"I asked, obviously, Miss Granger."

_Oh, well, then_

She frowned. _But. . . ?_ All that she'd read, told her you couldn't apparate somewhere you'd never seen, let alone been. That thought led her to wonder if the--

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape snarled, "I suggest you stop lollygagging about and lead the way. This isn't a _pleasure_ jaunt," he continued in a near hiss.

Hermione jumped, automatically turning to obey. She couldn't get the nagging questions out of her mind, though. Why was he waiting for her to lead, when he had to have been here before? He had to have to apparate here. "Professor?" she began.

Practically growling at her, he seemed to anticipate her question. "There are ways, Miss Granger," he snapped. "What ways, are none of your concern, however. Now, can we get _on_ with this. I'd like to have what's left of this day to myself."

Wanting to growl right back at the snarly professor, herself, Hermione grit her teeth and strode toward her home. _Fine!_ If that's the way he wanted to be, then she wouldn't bother suggesting a better way. Of course, no one had bothered to ask her about it, she ranted to herself, fuming. She couldn't _possibly_ have anything useful to contribute. She obviously wasn't old enough to know anything at all.

The fact that they were over a mile and a half from her front door shouldn't be of concern to anyone. _No! of course not. And of course,_ she continued on her silent rant, not slowing her pace at all, _if I _had _been asked I'd have been able to tell them they could safely apparate into my back yard._ No one would be home, she knew, with the possible exception of her parents. They were in the know, however, so it wouldn't matter if they saw the magical arrival. None of the servants would be, though. There was never any staff in the house on Sundays or Mondays, hadn't been as far back as she could remember.

In her thought filled preoccupation, they reached the gatehouse much sooner than she expected. Reluctantly dragging her focus back to reality, she entered the security code, and quickly stepped back to allow the gate to swing open without hindrance. Without even allowing herself the smallest of glances to see the professor's reaction, she strode through the gate, fully expecting the man to follow her. Much as she usually enjoyed being here, Hermione didn't stop, or even slow down, to enjoy the grounds surrounding her childhood home. She'd seen it before many times, and right now, she really didn't want to give the professor time to make any kind of derogatory remarks.

She cringed inside, realizing this would give the wizard excellent material to further taunt her at school. She could already hear the taunts. Instead of simply being an 'insufferable know-it-all', she would now become an 'insufferable princess know-it-all'. She barely resisted a rather heart-felt sigh. She'd lived that the first 10 years of her life, the children she'd attended muggle school with hadn't been any kinder about her . . . differences, than many of the students at Hogwarts. While Hogwarts may have been her first direct experience with -- for lack of a better word -- racial bigotry, she had been no stranger to ostracism and the cruelty of children the day she first boarded the Hogwart's Express. The muggle children's taunts had never had anything to do with 'blood purity', but they had hurt no less for all that. By the time she'd begun Hogwarts, her self-defensive wall of rampant superiority had been well built, her love of books and learning making her just as much a pariah here in this world as in the wizarding one. She laughed ruefully as she climbed up the few steps and onto her front porch. That defense had almost lost her the best friendships she had ever had . . . before they had even started.

Again paying little to no attention to the professor accompanying her, she swiftly unlocked her front door and stepped into the house. "Welcome to my home, Professor," she said absently as she headed directly for the control panel for the security system. She certainly had no desire for the police to show up while they were there simply because she forgot to turn the blasted thing off.

After entering all the necessary codes and closing the panel door, Hermione braced herself and turned to face Professor Snape. As she had suspected, he was watching her intently, his eyebrow sharply arched. His expression, however, was surprising neutral.

"You do realize, don't you, Miss Granger," he drawled, pointedly perusing their surroundings, "that had you alluded to your family's wealth, you would have saved yourself the majority of Mr. Malfoy's taunts?"

"What?" she asked, beyond confused. Mal-- Draco's problem with her had been -- was -- her abilities and her heritage. What did money have to do with that?

Letting out the most put-upon sigh Hermione had ever heard, Professor Snape looked down his nose at her. "Your muggle ancestory aside, Miss Granger, the Malfoy's respect two things; wealth and power. Money is power."

_Oh!_ Well, that made sense, actually. She frowned. Too bad she hadn't thought of that a long time ago. Not that she'd wanted to be friends with Malfoy before now. Well, it wasn't like she wanted to be _now_ even, but, well, she kind of had to. Didn't she? She was marrying him after all. It would sort of suck if they couldn't be at least . . . friendly.

She shook her head clear of her strange thoughts. "Hindsight, and all that, Professor," she offered softly, ruefully. "I'll just run up to my room and get my ID," she continued, turning and heading for the stairs. "I'll be right back."

It didn't take her long to retrieve her ID from her room; though, she was fairly certain the professor with her did not agree. Now, on their way to the bank, once again walking, the professor was watching her oddly, rather intently, actually. His expression, however, lacked the usual sneer, or haughty superiority. It was quite puzzling. Finally, only a block from the bank, Hermione gave up holding onto her curiosity.

"What?" she asked carefully, attempting not to let her frustration and discomfort bleed into her voice.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying for several heartbeats before he drew a deep breath. Ready to be lambasted for daring to ask, Hermione was suprirsed when he spoke quietly. "I have discovered that people who come from backgrounds such as you so very obviously do, tend to think in certain ways. I find myself disbelieving that you never once considered throwing your obvious wealth in Mr. Malfoy's self-righteous path. While your personality is a clue, were one to look closely enough, you show your wealth in neither your clothing, possessions, words, or most of your _professed_ attitudes."

It was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes, anger shooting through her at the implied insult to her. She stomped down on it . . . hard. Willing to forgo it in the face of her Professor seeming civility. If _he_ could be civil to her, she could certainly remain civil to him. "You are . . . partially right, Professor," she replied carefully. "When you're rich, you _are_ supposed to have certain attitudes and behave in certain ways. That's as true in the muggle world as it is in the wizarding one." _And I'm answering this very personal question, why?_ she wondered incredulously. "What also holds true for both worlds is that acting outside expected behavior leads to ostracism. Being rich does not seem to override being a nerd, at least, not in public school.

"So you see, Professor, there has been very little difference for me between my two worlds. At Hogwarts, I am well known as the bossy bookworm, or, in some cases, an insufferable know-it-all. In the muggle world--"

_I can't believe I'm admitting this! I'm handing this to him on a bloody silver platter!_

"--I was known as the princess know-it-all."

The professor's eyebrow went up again.

_Okay, Mr. Spock,_ she thought sarcastically, even as she shrugged in response.

"So, you see, Sir; it would never occur to me to use being rich as a defense, as it has always been something else the other children could taunt me with."

"Understood," he said simply, and amazingly enough, he really looked like he did understand.

They had reached the bank, however, so her opportunity to ask him about it was lost. She was more than certain -- given the way his expression immediately closed off -- that the end of the discussion had arrived. She strode into the building, thankful to find no line, and completed her withdrawal as quickly as she could. Neither of them spoke until after they left the bank. In fact, they did not speak for the entire walk back; though, she almost did when Professor Snape headed toward her front gate, instead of the park. It was obvious the minute she thought about it, of course. Her property was closer, and once they were behind the stone fence surrounding it, they could safely apparate. She had to admit, she was glad of it. She was extremely uncomfortable carrying around so much cash and would have felt even more so, walking to the park with it.

As he reached for her, she finally spoke. "As . . . satisfying as it might be to royally insult Draco's father," she offered thoughtfully, staying the professor's hand with her words. "I think we should exchange the dowry into galleons. No need to make him any more angry than he's already going to be."

Professor Snape nodded. "Sensible," he stated firmly, and without another word, apparated the both of them to Diagon Alley.

TBC

Kiristeen  
Feedback: The food on which on which a fanfiction author lives. : )


	10. Chapter 10

_Everyone:_ Bless you for all your comments and encouragement, as well as helpful tips. They make my day.  
_ProwlingKitkat & Heidi:_ ::grin:: Actually, what I wrote was that she was a 1/2 mile from home but 1 1/2 miles from her front door, meaning her parents property was huge (a mile from front gate to front door). Sorry for any confusion.

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Chapter Ten  
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Draco paced restlessly. They had been gone for over three hours. He wasn't sure what worried him more, though, the thought that his father had somehow magically managed to figure out what was going on and got hold of them, or the thought that his godfather or his fiancee had managed to kill the other. They were two of the most volatile people he knew. The Dark Lord, his father, and Potter outranked them . . . but just barely.

He glared out the window facing Hogwarts' gates for what seemed the thousandth time, but this time was no more productive than the last. _Blast and damn it all, where are they?_ he wondered venomously. _How bloody long does it take to make a stupid withdrawal, anyway?_

A hand on his shoulder startled him into a jump. "They will be fine, and back soon, I'd imagine."

_Imagine all you'd like old man,_ Draco thought, disrespecfully. Instead of voicing the worst of his discontent, he continued aloud, "I'll not relax until they're back."

"Understandable, Mr. Malfoy," he said, nodding. Hitching a hip high enough to sit on the edge of the window ledge, the headmaster continued. "Shall we wait for them together, then?"

_No! You barmy old coot. I want to wait alone._ He shrugged. "If you want," he said.

They watched and waited silently for long enough that Draco's thoughts began to whirl . . . again. What did the headmaster think of all this, truly? Why was he acting so . . . nice? What did the headmaster want from him? And there would be payback for all this . . . accomodation he was sure. Then a dreadful thought occured to him.

"I still love my father," he blurted suddenly.

"Of course, you do, dear boy."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I may not like him very much right now. In fact, I pretty much dislike him entirely. And I'm very angry with him, but I won't betray him."

The headmaster simply lifted a surprised eyebrow and tilted his head thoughtfully. He didn't reply.

"By my standards of betrayal," he added, realizing in the answering silence of his last statement, that by his father's standards, he already had.

The headmaster nodded agreeably. "Understood."

Draco nodded firmly. _Good_ He was glad that was settled. He still had hopes of reconciliation some years down the road. They weren't high hopes, but they were there nevertheless.

"I suppose," the headmaster said softly, looking out the window instead of at Draco, "that only one question remains, then."

Draco frowned, glaring at the headmaster's profile. "And what's that?" he asked, without having really meant to.

The headmaster turned then, his customary twinkling expression serious. "Now that you have, more or less, openly declared you will not side against Voldemort."

Draco flinched slightly.

"Are you planning on remaining neutral, as it were, or do we have to worry about you actively supporting the Dark Lord?"

Well, that was certainly blunt. Draco snorted slightly. "With a mu-ggleborn for a wife, and a half-blood child on the way?"

"Good point, Mr. Malfoy, and a very Slytherin answer."

Draco smirked.

"But it didn't answer my question."

"No," Draco growled. "I will not be joining the death eaters."

The headmaster smiled widely. "Wonderful, Mr. Malfoy," he replied, returning his gaze out the window. "Ah! Just as I suspected. They are back, and both under their own power."

Draco's head snapped around and he stared out the window. He grinned as he saw the two people he'd been waiting for. He almost laughed when he realized that the two of them looked to be arguing.

x-x-x

Draco met them outside the front entrance, decorum bedamned. As uncomfortable as he was with this entire situation, one thing was always at the forefront of his mind; his and Katherine's child. It may have been only a few days, and he still wouldn't let himself _feel_ her loss when it didn't pull a nasty sneak attack, but he was suprised to discover that he was already minding less and less what the world would think about his child.

As he watched his head of house approach the castle with his fiancee, he was further surprised to discover that the whole idea was starting to grow on him -- kind of. Despite their . . . different backgrounds -- and no, he hadn't quite reconciled himself to her nonmagical background -- he suddenly realized that if they made a concerted effort, this marriage might not become an unmitigated disaster.

He also had to admit, as much as he wanted to remain a Malfoy, there was something curiously freeing about knowing he wouldn't be responsible for continuing the Malfoy line. He wouldn't be the reason the proud Malfoy heritage was no longer pure of muggle influence. Instead, he would be . . . upgrading the Granger line. He snorted at his own mental gymnastics, stopping just short of rolling his eyes. Six of one, half dozen of the other, really. No matter what the records cared to show, the Malfoy family was no longer completely pureblood. His child would see to that -- even if it wouldn't bear the name Malfoy.

Still, it was an interesting feeling.

As the two grew closer, another thought occurred to him, one that, he supposed, should have occurred very much sooner. Just how real would this marriage be? What did he want out of the marriage? What would _she_ want? And odd feeling grew as Hermione's form became clearer and he could actually see the small bulge nearly hidden by her robes. Would he ever see her this way again? Would she ever carry another of his children, only the next time hers as well?

He remained still and silent next to the headmaster, not wanting the older wizard to know about his sudden disquiet, nor the reasons for it.

"Done," Hermione said the moment she was close enough to do so without raising her voice.

"Excellent," the headmaster replied, smiling.

Draco, on the other hand frowned. Hermione looked flushed. "Are you alright?" he asked, instantly stepping to her side. "Maybe the walk was too much in your condition," he suggested trying to take her arm to assist her into the school.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him. "I'm fine, Draco. I'm pregnant, not diseased. Madam Pomfrey assured me that the damage has healed and the danger has passed."

Draco glared at the older men as the headmaster's grin widened, his eyes dancing with delight, and Professor Snape snorted.

"Now we need to send the dowry, along with your letter of intent, Miss Granger," the headmaster said, ignoring Draco's look completely.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Also, we will need two witnesses. I would suggest each of you choose one, but that is a decision to be made by the two of you."

"Minerva and I would function quite well as witnesses," Professor Snape interrupted. "The less people who know about this until after it is done, the better."

Draco, as much as he would like to invite either Crabbe, Goyle, or both, agreed that perhaps it would be best.

Hermione, on the other hand, barely waited for the professor to finish speaking before ignoring his suggestion completely. "I would like to invite Harry and Ron," she said softly. "I can choose one as the witness, but I wouldn't feel right inviting one and not the other."

"That would not--" Professor Snape began, only to let his words fall off as the headmaster contradicted him even as he was saying the words.

"That would be acceptable, Miss Granger."

Draco shifted restlessly, before coming to a decision that wasn't entirely Slytherin in nature, but that he wanted to make anyway. If Hermione was going to have her friends there, he felt it only fair that he have his -- if they would come when they found out who he was marrying . . . this time.

"I'm perfectly happy having Professor Snape as legal witness, but I too would like to invite two friends."

At the two older wizards' surprised looks, he shrugged. "Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't understand if Potter and Weasley were invited to my wedding, and they weren't," he hedged, not wanting to reveal his true reasons. While the reason he'd given was actually true, it wasn't his real motivation. As thick as the two of them were sometimes -- most of the time -- they really were his two best friends. He just hoped they still would be. He wasn't really all that close to anyone else in Slytherin house.

Professor Snape shook his head, snorting in exasperation as he strode off.

"Does that mean he will, or won't, be your witness, Draco?" Hermione asked. "I admit that I'm not up on deciphering Snape language."

"He'll be there," Miss Granger," the headmaster replied, answering for Draco. Which, to Draco's mind, was a good thing, since he hadn't been altogether certain, either.

"I would like it if Professor McGonagall was there, as well," Hermione offered. "If she wants to be."

The headmaster beamed at her. "Excellent, Miss Granger. I'm sure she'll be delighted."

Draco barely resisted a snide remark, opting instead for, "well, why not invite Madam Pomfrey as well. Don't want to leave anyone out," he said drily, not seriously intending the remark.

Unfortunately, the headmaster chose to ignore the sarcasm. "Brilliant idea, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you go down and invite her."

_I wasn't serious!_ He didn't protest vocally, however, doing as instructed.

"This is turning out to be quite the gathering, Miss Granger, perhaps you would like to invite Professor McGonagall yourself?" he suggested. "You could speak with her about something appropriate to wear?"

Draco didn't hear Hermione's response, but was now worrying about what _he_ would wear. Everything he had taken with him when he'd left home had been destroyed in the fire at the motel, and when he'd taken the time to owl Madam Malkin's for a few items to hold him over, he hadn't been thinking about formal wear. For that matter, when this whole situation had come up, neither he, nor Hermione, had voiced any thoughts about doing anything more than the bare minimum required by wizarding law. Now it was turning into a real wizarding ceremony. All that was missing were aquaintances, hordes of barely known relatives, and enemies one couldn't afford to snub.

His mind now whirling, he was planning for all he was worth. Beginning to truly accept that it was going to happen, and happen today, Draco was beginning to panic. Both he and Hermione had agreed that they wanted it to look like they'd _wanted_ to get married. Better that than the alternative . . . for both of them. If that was to happen, this ceremony had to look as if they'd sat down and planned, had _been_ planning it, since before they were supposedly married back in June.

With that in mind, he began planning the little details he knew could trip them up. The first thing he realized was that they would need someone to take pictures. It certainly wouldn't seem planned if that little piece of tradition were not observed.

He reached the infirmary before he'd found the answer to it. It wasn't as though they could go professional; there simply wasn't time to hire someone. Perhaps one of Hogwarts' staff knew something about photography, he thought as he stepped inside the medi-witch's domain. Madam Pomfrey wasn't readily visible, so Draco headed toward her office, hoping to find her there. She wasn't in her office, but something was; pictures, lots of them. They graced just about every free space on her office wall.

Draco grinned, despite everything that still needed done in a ridiculously short period of time. And no, he couldn't believe he was getting this worked up over this particular ceremony. It was only his pride, he assured himself. It wasn't as though he were trying to build a good memory or anything girly like that. He might have, if this had been with-- He cut off that train of thought instantly, already feeling his chest clench. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to return to her office, effectively distracting him from his suddenly depressing thoughts.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco ignored the slight disapproval he heard in the medi-witch's voice as he turned. "Yes, Ma'am. Two things actually. First, I came down here to invite you to the wedding."

Madam Pomfrey grinned. "I would be honored to attend, Mr. Malfoy," she replied.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"And the second thing?" she asked, coming closer.

"Did you take these pictures?" he asked, indicating her walls with a wave of his hand.

"Most of them," she replied. "Some were taken by my daughter. Why?"

_Madam Pomfrey has a daughter?_

"Would you be willing to take the wedding photos?"

If possible, Madam Pomfrey's grin widened even more. "I'd love to!" she exclaimed happily.

"Great!" he replied. "That's one thing taken care of. Now, I've just got to figure out what to wear," he continued, heading for the door. "It's in three hours, at 4pm." He was almost to the door when Madam Pomfrey stopped him.

"Do you love her?" she asked.

Draco froze. No, he didn't; he could barely stand her. For that matter, she didn't love him, either, but how did he answer the incredibly personal question? He turned slowly, trying to figure that out. One glance at the medi-witch and Draco knew.

"No," he replied. "And before you ask, she doesn't love me, either." He almost left it at that, but watching the sadness envelop her face, he felt compelled to share the conclusion he had startlingly come to less than an hour before. "But I think we can make it work." When Madam Pomfrey looked doubtful, he continued, surprising himself. "I'm not at liberty to share just what, exactly, but Hermione did something incredibly selfless for me. It made me stop and do some very serious thinking. I'm not sure what's going to happen, but, at least on my part, there's a little bit of respect. Just maybe, if we both try and we work hard enough at it, we might be able to make a go of it."

Madam Pomfrey's face cleared a bit, though, she did still look a little worried. "Many couples in history have started with less," she offered tentatively.

Draco smiled then, relaxing. "Very true. My parents, for example, didn't even know each other when their parents arranged their marriage." He frowned a bit. "Of course, they didn't have the baggage we'll need to overcome, history and all that. But, still."

"I wish you all the luck, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely. He suspected they were going to need all the luck they could get, and not just to make the marriage work. They still had to pass the hurdle of their combined friends. Crabbe and Goyle weren't going to be pleased by his choice of a second wife. And it pretty much went without saying, that Potter and Weasley weren't going to be happy that he was the groom. If he'd thought it would do any good, he'd pray that their friends reactions didn't make a good go impossible from the very beginning.

"You mentioned needing to find something to wear. Don't you have anything?" she asked, looking confused.

He shook his head, more than a bit embarrassed by it. "No, when I left home I didn't take anything formal with me, and now, well, I don't really dare go home to get something."

"No," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "of course, not." A spark lit her eyes suddenly. "Well, young man, I just may have something to help."

Relieved, Draco stepped toward her. "Really?"

She nodded. "It may be a bit old fashioned, but a couple of tailoring spells can take care of that little foible right quick."

Now a bit wary, Draco followed the medi-witch. He was curious enough, however, that he set aside most of his reservations. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, to see what she could come up with. And besides, he really was rather desperate. He had no doubts that the Gryffindor head of house would come up with something for Hermione to wear, and he didn't want to make a bad showing, next to her.

By the time he left the medi-witch's presence, not only did he have something he liked to wear for the ceremony, he was feeling a great deal better about the whole thing. He hadn't known, before now, that Madam Pomfrey was a widow, and listening to her recount how she and her late husband had met, raised his hope that maybe neither he nor Hermione were irrevocably ruining their lives by getting married. After all, he was pretty sure that the Weasel or Potter would suck it up and marry her, to let her stay in school.

He shuddered, imagining his and Katherine's child being raised as a Potter or a Weasley.

_Nope! Not going to happen!_ he thought fiercely, feeling almost as though they'd already offered. He cringed now, knowing it might actually come to that. In fact, they _both_ might offer to marry her. Dread coursed through him as he suddenly realized that Hermione just might take one of them up on it.

_Is that why she wanted them here?_ he worried. Biting his lower lip, he hoped not. _She promised!_ he reminded himself, remembering how outraged she'd become the last time he'd suggested she might not be honoring her promises in regard to the baby. He held onto that. Despite it not being a very Slytherin thing to do, he had to believe she wouldn't back out now.

Laughing suddenly, he cast his eyes upward. _Well, Katherine,_ he thought ruefully, _it's official. I've gone barmy. Don't ask me why, but I really want this marriage to work,_ he continued, eyes watering up, despite his best efforts. _She's the direct opposite of everything I've ever wanted in someone, and it really doesn't make any sense._ He shook his head. _In fact, the entire situation is over the top, and I really am going crazy._ There was only one answer for it. He needed some of this resolved. Setting off at a trot, he headed for the kitchens, the one place he was virtually assured of finding a house elf.

TBC

Kiristeen  
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Feedback: It's the bomb! : )~


	11. Chapter 11

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Chapter Eleven  
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Hermione was officially panicking, complete with an ever-tightening band around her chest, and an inability to take in enough air.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Mcgonagall shouted, snapping her fingers directly in front of Hermione's face.

Hermione blinked, startled, gasping. "What?" she asked, still breathing far too quickly.

"Calm down, Miss Granger. You're panicking."

"Damn right, I'm panicking!" Hermione retorted, freezing as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She couldn't believe she said that, and to a professor, no less! She felt herself redden, the heat radiating off her face with incredible intensity.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed, her voice beyond shocked.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she babbled, "I don't know what came over me. I swear it will _never_ happen again. I really didn't--"

The professor's hand over her mouth stopped her mid-babble, and she stared wide-eyed over top of the hand.

"Just this once, I think I can forgive such an outburst -- seeing as school has yet to start," McGonagall said wryly, then frowning sternly. "Just do not let it become habit."

Hermione shook her head fervently. She would _never_. She didn't even know why she'd done it this time. She was always berating Ron whenever he cursed. Now, she wouldn't have a leg to stand on the next time he let out with a 'bloody hell'.

"And you can stop that mental babble too," the professor said as she removed her hand, a hint of a smile curving the corners of her mouth up and lighting her eyes.

Hermione laughed; though, there was a slight edge to the sound. "Sorry," she said simply, clamping her mouth around the flow of words that wanted to follow the first one. She absolutely refused to give in to the 'babble urge' again so soon after the last one.

"Sit, let's talk."

Hermione's eyes widened. The professor sounded _so_ serious all of a sudden. Had she done something wrong she wasn't aware of? Hermione complied, more than a little nervous now -- this time about something _other_ than the wedding in less than three hours. _Three hours!_ She was getting married . . . to Malfoy . . . in less than three bloody hours! She wasn't going to--

"Stop it!"

Laughing once again, this time sheepishly, Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop. I get started and then, well, can't stop."

"You know," McGonagall began slowly, "I never really imagined you and Mr. Malfoy ever being . . . interested in one another, let alone _seriously_ interested in each other."

"Me either," Hermione replied faintly. _Oh no!_ She was fast on her way back to panic again. She couldn't lie to Professor McGonagall! What if she asked how the two of them got together? Hermione certainly couldn't tell her the truth! That _really_ wouldn't be good. In fact, it would be bad, very bad.

A slight frown on her face, the professor leaned forward earnestly. "Why are you marrying him, Miss Granger?"

Hermione didn't look up as she answered. "I don't have a choice if I want to stay in school," she answered truthfully, biting back the urge to explain further. As the assistant head-mistress she had already been informed of the sordid details, something that embarrassed Hermione no end. Unfortunately, it wasn't like she could deny any of the false 'truths'. What was she going to do, protest that she'd never had sex with Draco? That, in fact, she'd never had sex with _anyone_? Right; like she would be believed. She was pregnant. No one would believe she was still a virgin, not even her two best friends would be likely to believe it . . . not without hearing the _whole_ story.

"There are always choices, child," McGonagall replied softly. "Though, I must admit to some pleasant surprise that Mr. Malfoy is willing to stand by you, surely if you can not stand the idea of sitting your newts independantly, and absolutely _have_ to stay in school, one of your friends would be a better choice to tie yourself to for the rest of your life."

Hermione shook her head fervently. "No. They're family," she protested, scrunching up her nose. "That would be just . . . ewww." Shaking her head, desperate to clear the mental image she _really_ didn't want, Hermione was NOT thanking the professor for the mental movie.

The professor laughed; though, she managed to cut the sound off quickly. "Seriously, Miss Granger. You must consider more than just your immediate future. Do you really think you'll be happy married to him? Surely, you can see that is more important than whether or not you finish Hogwarts before sitting your newts? You and I both know that you could sit your newts now and pass with reasonable scores. Take three months to study this year's texts and you could probably pass with mostly O's."

_Time to pull out the big guns,_ Hermione thought sadly, asking her head of house the same question she had asked the headmaster. "And what happens when I'm no longer safely inside Hogwarts and Draco's father finds out I'm carrying his grandchild?"

McGonagall's eyes widened as the answer struck, but whatever her response would have been was interrupted by a knock on her door. She rose, quickly crossing to answer it.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione heard Draco say and her head shot up in surprise.

_What's he doing here? Oh no! He's come to back out of the whole thing!_ It was only with iron determination that she didn't start hyperventilating again.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asked, her tone slightly disapproving.

"May I speak with Hermione a moment, please?"

_He wants to speak to me?_ Hermione tensed, suddenly very frightened that she knew exactly what he wanted to talk to her about. _It's not fair!_ she thought angrily. _I did this for him! For him and for Kath! And look what it's got me!_

The Professor looked over her shoulder, a questioning look on her face.

Hermione nodded, rising from in front of the fireplace. "I'll speak to him," she whispered, wishing she dared send him away. She snorted to herself. _As if that would change anything!_

Nodding, Professor McGonagall turned back toward the door, opening it far enough to allow Draco to step inside. "I'll be back in ten minutes, Miss Granger. We'll put the finishing touches on the dress then."

Hermione nodded again, surprised. "Thank you for allowing us the privacy to talk here," she replied, trying to smile at the professor. Neither she nor Draco spoke until the door was long closed behind the professor. Shifting nervously, Hermione offered the second chair, resuming her own seat.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked finally, long after it seemed Draco wouldn't start the conversation. She hadn't wanted to, but it was better than the two of them sitting there staring at each other in tense silence.

He finally looked up at her, seeming as unsure of himself as Hermione had ever seen him. It scared her more than she cared to admit. What could be wrong _now_?

"After I spoke to Madam Pomfrey -- oh! She's agreed to take pictures for us."

"Really?" Hermione exclaimed, making herself sound happy, all the while wondering if Pomfrey's help would still be needed after Draco had his say. "That's really sweet of her. Was that what you wanted to tell me?" she asked hopefully.

"No," Draco replied, shaking his head. "I had a thought, after I left her."

"And that was?"

"It's no secret that your best friends and I don't exactly get along."

Hermione let out a short bark of laughter. She couldn't help it. That had been just about the biggest understatement she had heard in her entire life. "You're right. It's not exactly a secret," she agreed, her worry now compounded.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're going to try and 'save' you, especially if you tell them any portion of the truth."

Hermione nodded. She had pretty much figured the same thing and a greater part of her attention today had been spent trying to figure out how to turn them down without hurting their feelings. She really didn't think it was possible, but she also wasn't going to lie to them. They were her best friends, and she didn't want to keep any secrets from them.

Draco had started to speak several times, cutting himself off each time, when Hermione had a startling thought.

Surprised at the hurt that flooded through her, she looked down, not wanting Malfoy to see the tears that automatically sprung up. "You want me to accept one of them," she said. "Don't you?"

"No!" Draco shouted, sending Hermione a good three inches off her chair and snapping her head up to stare in shock.

Draco cleared his throat, now looking incredibly embarrassed. "No," he repeated, softly this time. "Just the opposite, in fact," he explained. "I wanted to make sure you knew I _didn't_ want you to."

Relieved far more than she would have thought, Hermione leaned toward him. "I won't," she assured. "I made promises to you, promises that only you can release me from, and I intend to keep them."

Taking a deep breath, looking like he was steeling himself for some incredibly difficult task, Draco blew that breath out slowly. "I'm going to lay all my cards on the table, Hermione. That's not an incredibly Slytherin thing to do, but considering. . . ."

She wasn't Slytherin, if he wanted her to understand what he wanted, he'd have to be a little more . . . blunt than was his wont. She was grateful he already understood that. It would save several future arguments -- of which there would be many, she was sure.

"I know we don't have the best history, and I know that very history might lead you to think marrying me would be the very worst thing to happen in your life, but I want you to know that I think we have a chance to make this work."

Hermione could do nothing more than stare as shock stole her ability to even think.

"It won't be easy, of course, but we're both intelligent." He grinned then, adding, "and stubborn."

Grinning back, Hermione could only nod in agreement. She could think of only one person more stubborn than the two of them -- well, maybe two.

"If we--" Draco sighed, huffing in obvious frustration. "What do you want out of this marriage?" he blurted suddenly.

"Right now," Hermione replied slowly, thinking through her answer, "I simply want to be able to stay in school."

Draco frowned, shaking his head.

That obviously hadn't been what he was looking for.

"I'm sorry I can't give a better answer than that, Draco. I'm just not ready for anything more than that."

Draco nodded then. "Just promise me one thing."

"If I can," Hermione replied, wary of promising anything blind . . . especially considering the circumstances.

"Just promise that you'll keep an open mind," he urged. "Don't automatically rule anything out."

Confused, Hermione frowned slightly. "Draco, sorry if I'm misunderstanding you, but it sounds as if you're asking me whether or not I'll ever want to have sex with you."

Draco jumped up from his seat, pacing several steps away before spinning back around to face her. "That's only part of it," he tried to explain. "I guess, what I'm asking is this; Do you want this to be a real marriage? Eventually, I mean."

Shock had once again stolen Hermione voice. At least this time, however, it left her thoughts free, but certainly not clear. They whirled in chaotic circles, half completed thoughts being cut off by the next set of half completed thoughts. "Um, I don't know, Draco," she said finally.

"Obviously, it won't be right now," Draco hurried to say. "You already said you're not ready, and I'm not ready either, obviously." He huffed again, this time looking up toward the ceiling as his eyes clenched shut.

Hermione ached to reach out and touch him as her classmate obviously fought against tears. She didn't, however. She really didn't think the gesture would be appreciated.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed suddenly, looking toward her once again. "I'm not saying this well at all."

"You're saying it just fine, Draco," Hermione disagreed.

"I don't want to jump into anything. I'm sure you'd agree that would be a disaster waiting to happen."

Hermione nodded emphatically.

"It's just that I would like the possibility, in the future, and I didn't want you to think I didn't."

"Very well, Draco," Hermione offered. "I think that I would like that too. A lifetime is a long time to be married in name only. The only other viable option would be to agree to take discreet lovers at some point," she continued, "and I don't think I could live like that."

Draco smiled at her then, his relief plain in his expression. "Good. In that case, we can work out the details as they arise, then."

"Yes, I'm beginning to think we can," she agreed, pleased surprise evident in her voice and growing smile.

They stared at each other for several moments before Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'll just be--"

They both jumped as the door opened and Professor McGonagall hurried back in the room. "My apologies for being gone longer than I'd planned."

They both quickly demurred, assuring the professor that it hadn't been a problem at all.

"Mr. Malfoy, Misters Crabbe and Goyle have arrived and are awaiting you in the Slytherin dorms."

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied, quickly heading for the door. Just before he passed through it, however, he stopped and turned around. "I'll see you at four," he said then disappeared out of the room.

Hermione stared at the door for several long moments before Professor McGonagall stepped into her line of sight. She jumped.

"Are you alright, child?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said confidently "I think I am." She turned to face her head of house fully. "And more importantly, I think I'm going to _be_ okay."

"I'm glad to hear that, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied smoothly, continuing in a matter of fact tone. "Now, let's tailor that dress waiting in the other room."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Yes, it does seem to be pretty thoroughly accepted fanon that marriages must be consummated to be valid. I'm not sure at this point whether or not that's going to be the case here. It probably should, considering all the emphasis on 'traditional rituals' that has been brought to bear in the story, but I'm still undecided. I don't want to lock myself into that and then not have the muses willing/able to write it. That has the been the problem with my "Mothers, Witches, and Bargains Made" story. My muse simply refuses to give an inspiration on how to continue that one. :(

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Chapter Twelve  
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Hermione stopped outside Gryffindor Tower and carefully settled her robes around her to hide what evidence there was of her pregnancy. She only half heard the Fat Lady's greeting and returned it absently. As soon as the portrait opened for her, she strode inside with all the confidence she didn't really feel. She made it all of three steps into the common room before the two already present noticed her.

"Hermione!" they exclaimed, rushing toward her.

"Harry! Ron!" she exclaimed right back, beyond happy they had both been able to make it. She hadn't been sure about Harry, what with all the secrecy he lived under. She carefully made sure the enthusiastic hugs they gave her were upper body contact only, wanting to tell them about the situation, not have it revealed before she was ready. Explanations had to begin first, or she would be fighting this battle up a cliff, instead of merely up a hill.

"What's this about you getting married?" Ron demanded. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone!"

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry agreed. "You'd think you'd have told us before now if you were getting serious with someone."

Taking a deep breath, and making a vain attempt to calm her nerves before beginning, she urged them to sit first. "It'll be more comfortable, and this is a long story." Even as she put up three different privacy spells -- she wasn't taking any chances, what with the tempers on both her best friends -- she knew she was starting to really worry them.

"Okay," Harry said, the moment she lowered her wand. "Now that there are enough spells up to talk about order business, is that what this is about?" he asked. "Order business?"

"No, Harry. It's not," she denied, shaking her head. "I really am getting married."

"So what's all the secrecy for?"

"Well, if you'd let me explain instead of peppering me with questions, you'd already know part of the answer to that!" Hermione snapped, losing what little patience the day had left her with. There wasn't a lot of time left before she had to go and change clothes.

Both boys nodded, Ron going so far as to pinch his lips closed with his fingers, making Hermione laugh despite her fear of losing the two of them over this whole thing.

"As long as you make the long story as short as possible," Harry half-grinned. "I don't know how long I can keep my questions to myself."

Hermione snorted and began her story. "This summer I meant someone--"

"No kidding!" Ron blurted.

Hermione glared and Ron cringed.

"Sorry."

"Not _that_ someone," Hermione clarified, "someone else. She's a partial blood -- her great grandmother or some such was a muggle. Her name _was_ Katherine."

"Was?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "She was killed early this month, and that's the reason I'm getting married."

Both boys stared at her for several seconds, before exchanging a puzzled glance. When they turned back to face her, Harry spoke, chuckling a little and shaking his head.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I asked you to shorten the long story. Could you _please_ fill in the details as to how the death of someone you just met led to you getting married?"

"And who you're getting married to!" Ron piped in.

Not bothering to fight her grin, Hermione nodded graciously and launched into the story of how she met Katherine and the circumstances her friend had been in -- leaving out only who, exactly, she had been married to.

"Wow!" Ron breathed. "It's straight out of a fairy tale, like the ones Mum used to tell Ginny."

"There's more. It was her father-in-law that had her killed, poisoned to be exact. There was nothing that could save her, but. . . ."

"But?"

"But I could save the baby."

They simply blinked at her. "How?" Harry asked finally. "I don't know much about babies, but even I know it takes nine months before they're ready to come out, almost all of that to even have a chance."

Hermione took another deep breath and opened her robes, smoothing her shirt back to show her enlarged belly.

Gobsmacked, her two best friends simply stared. Harry started to reach out, but snatched his hand back almost immediately, even as he managed a strangled, "how?"

"That's dark magic, Hermione!" Ron accused, leaping to his feet. "It has to be! How did you learn that kind of spell?"

_Thank you, privacy spells,_ Hermione thought, glad she'd remembered her friend's explosive temper.

"Katherine knew she was going to die."

That silenced even Ron, and he sank back into his seat.

"Her family was known for having the sight, really having it, I mean." Hermione shook her head sadly, not bothering to fight the tears that formed. Finally she was with someone she could share her grief with. "I don't know how long she'd known, but she prepared for it. She didn't tell anyone, not her husband, not me. The only thing she told me, was that she was worried that something _might_ happen, given who her father-in-law was.

Hermione went on to explain how she'd studied the spell, never actually agreeing to cast it, just to look at it, learn it. She told them, interspaced with some of the things they'd done together, how Kath had promised to get a surrogate, but how, in the end, she hadn't been able to, and hadn't really even tried. She had picked Hermione from the very beginning -- or so Hermione believed.

She briefly covered getting found, surviving, Snape's odd behavior, and finally the medi-witch's announcement.

"You had to live on Snape's couch for a week!?"

Hermione nodded, smirking at their awe filled faces. "It wasn't that bad, really."

"Not that bad?" came the twin exclamation.

She shrugged. "Mostly, he was gone."

"So, the two of you agreed to marry, so you wouldn't get expelled?" Harry confirmed.

"Yep."

Ron shook his head. "Getting expelled for saving a life. It doesn't seem right, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Harry agreed.

"Now, are you going to tell us _who_ you're marrying?"

Hermione stared resolutely at her hands, clenched in her lap. "You won't like it," she said.

"He's Slytherin," Harry said darkly.

Ron glared. "Tell him he's wrong, 'Mione."

"I can't, Ron. He's right," Hermione replied. Before the tense silence that fell at her words became too strained, Hermione snapped her head up, looking from one friend to the other, her eyes wide, beseeching. "But before you rush to judgement, let me tell you that I think falling in love with Katherine, a _non-pureblood_, started changing him. Of course, what his father did, losing his _wife_ on his father's orders, tilted his world view a bit. Even this summer, before all that, he was at least polite to me while I was hanging out with Kath."

"Hermione," Harry interrupted firmly, "slow down."

Hermione took a deep gulp of air and forced the words to stop. This was the part she feared the most. Before she could confess, however, Ron cut in.

"It's Zabini, right?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, opening her mouth to tell them.

"Well, it can't be Flint," Ron continued. "You've got more sense than that."

Hermione shuddered. "You're right, it's not Flint," she said flatly.

"Somehow, I can't picture it being Crabbe or Goyle, either," Harry smirked.

"Oh, ha, ha," Hermione retorted sourly.

"Right, not Crabbe or Goyle."

Hermione found herself relaxing just a little bit. They were taking the news of her husband-to-be being Slytherin surprisingly well. It gave her just a touch of hope that, just maybe, they could get past it being _Malfoy_ . . . eventually.

"All joking aside, Hermione, unless you want us finding out who he is as you walk down the aisle, you might want to just get it over with."

"You're right, Harry. I should." She took one more deep breath, which she held a moment, before blurting, "it's Draco."

"MALFOY?!" they shouted, this time both of them jumping to their feet, outrage and anger simmering in both their expressions.

Hermione flinched, but immediately straightened her back and tilted her chin up defiantly. "Yes, Malfoy." She wasn't ashamed of what she was doing, and she refused to let them make her feel that way.

She had to believe they would get over it . . . in time. She needed to believe it, otherwise, they weren't the friends she thought they were. Still, the prospect that they wouldn't absolutely terrified her. Despite her best efforts, tears blurred her vision; though, none escaped.

Both of her friends were staring at her, utterly gobsmacked, their mouths hanging open. She watched warily as a an array of different emotions paraded through their eyes. Surprisingly, Ron was the first to recover enough of his wits to say anything further.

He collapsed back into his chair, his expression one of stark disbelief. "Malfoy?" he whispered hoarsely, looking beyond confused.

Shakily, Hermione nodded, simultaneously bolstered and frightened by his quiet response.

"Harry?" she asked hesitantly.

He didn't respond immediately, which worried Hermione . . . a lot. Finally, he leaned back and tilted his head as he continued looking at her. "Okay," he said carefully. "I think you need to explain a couple more things, Hermione."

Feeling like she should be holding her breath, Hermione nodded. "Okay, what?"

"One; why you have to marry Malfoy. Why not marry one of us? That would keep you in school."

"Let me answer that with a question of my own. Do you think a father has the right to be a part of his baby's life, and be publicly known as the father?"

"Yes, but--"

"That's why."

"Wait a minute!" Ron objected. "It won't work."

Harry frowned, facing away from Hermione for the first time since her rather incredible announcement. "That's my second concern, and why not?"

"Everybody will know Hermione performed dark magic. There's no other way she could end up carrying, Malfoy's wife's baby."

"That's already been taken care of," Hermione said quickly, before Harry could do more than open his mouth to agree with Ron.

Ron frowned. "How?"

"No one will know the baby's not mine."

The two boys just stared at her for the longest time, then shared a shocked look.

"You mean Malfoy agreed to letting everyone think that he and you. . . ." Harry began, trailing off.

Hermione nodded.

"He's going to let everyone think his baby's mother is _muggleborn_?"

Again Hermione nodded, not daring to speak.

Ron snorted. "He _has_ changed, then."

Harry chuckled, but the amusement didn't last long. "So how are you going to be any safer than Malfoy's first wife? If Malfoy Sr. didn't like her, then he definitely isn't going to like you."

"Yeah!"

"First off, I won't be leaving the school grounds any time soon, so he won't be able to get to me here. Secondly. . . ." Hermione hurriedly explained all they had planned, so there wouldn't be any surprises – any more surprises anyway.

Ron began smirking about half way through her explanation and by the time she'd finished, it had morphed through giggles into outright, gut wrenching laughter. "Malfoy's . . . going . . . to take . . . _your_ name?" he managed to asked through his guffaws.

Hermione's mouth twitched upward as she nodded. "It was the only way to protect all three of us from Mr. Malfoy."

Though he chuckled too, Harry still looked confused. "How's that going to protect you from him?"

Ron's laughter cut off abruptly, his expression turning serious with surprising speed. "It has to do with the way the wizarding world works, Harry. Now, I won't pretend to know how it works in the muggle world, but here, the head of the family controls the actions of _all_ underage members, even those who marry in. To some extent, they have control over all members, really."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "You mean he'd control Hermione too!?"

Ron nodded. "Exactly as if he were her father." He turned back to face her as he continued. "I don't get how his changing his name instead of you changing yours gets around that, though," he admitted questioningly.

Hermione smirked. "Because, Ron, I'm not marrying into his family."

Ron frowned. "You're not? I thought you were marrying the prat today."

Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. "I am, Ronald."

Ron looked like he wanted to growl at her, while Harry remained intently quiet, watching the byplay without comment. "Okay, Mione, I know I'm not quite as fast on the uptake as you are. Quit rubbing my nose in it and explain, please."

Blushing, Hermione ducked her head. "Sorry Ron. I'm proud of my solution, so I suppose I was gloating a bit," she admitted sheepishly.

Harry chuckled then. "A bit?" he asked drily.

"Okay, okay," she snapped half-heartedly, "a lot."

"That's better," Harry praised.

Hermione glared for a moment before she couldn't contain her grin any longer. "By reversing who takes whose name," she told them triumphantly, "we're changing who's marrying into whose family."

Blank expressions met her explanation.

Rolling her eyes, she tried again. "I'm not marrying into the Malfoy family. He's marrying into the Granger family."

Ron's eyes widened impossibly wide before he burst out with a single loud laugh. "So _your_ dad's in charge instead of Lucius Malfoy," he exclaimed.

"Brilliant, Hermione," Harry breathed.

Hermione beamed.

"But how are you going to get Malfoy Sr. to cough up the dowry?" Ron asked, surprising her with his sudden perceptiveness; though, she supposed she shouldn't be all that surprised. One thing her red-headed friend was good at was strategy.

"Think about it, Ron," she prompted, her grin widening until it felt like it was actually touching her ears. She tried to tone it down, though, her cheeks were starting to ache a bit.

He frowned in thought for several moments before another chuckle was startled out of him the instant his eyes lit up in comprehension. "Oh, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in Malfoy Manor!"

Hermione snickered. "Me too," she confessed in a whisper.

"Okay," Harry interrupted, "I'm lost again. Please explain what's so funny to the moron."

Hermione sighed, her grin disappearing. "You're not a moron, Harry. You just haven't learned the ins and outs of wizarding society yet."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied in irritation, "blah, blah, blah, just explain."

Ron beat her to it, grinning like some kind of insane idiot. "Malfoy's the bride, Harry. Dowry's are paid to the bride's family."

A chortle escaped Harry's tightly pressed lips as he turned to Hermione for confirmation.

She nodded.

A second laugh escaped, then Harry bent over, his arms wrapped protectively across his ribs as he exploded into uncontrolled laughter. It went on long enough that he literally fell out of his chair, his near hysterical laughter stopping only long enough for him to let out a semi-pained, "oomph".

Ron and Hermione shared a quick, worried look before returning their attention to their friend. It wasn't long, however, before all three of them were laughing freely.

On Hermione's part, the relief she felt right now was beyond incredible. Her friends might not like the idea, but -- as evidenced by their amusement -- they weren't going to turn away from her for this.

TBC  
Kiristeen  
Feedback: Pretty please.


	13. Chapter 13

Snowe: Thanks! I'll go back and correct that. As you can see, I'm not quite up on older marriage traditions. I have since done _some_ research, but I missed that. : ) (corrected)  
Thanks everyone for you comments about the consumation, I haven't completely decided yet, but have scenarios for both directions going through my mind at the moment, lol. I guess we'll both find out when it happens.

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Chapter 13  
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Draco blew out a deep breath before crossing the Slytherin common room. He still wasn't sure exactly what he was going to reveal about the events leading up to today, but Greg and Vincent were waiting, both of them sitting on the couch nearest the fireplace. They hadn't even noticed his entrance. He nearly snorted in response.

They were unobservant, less than subtle, and, as far as he could tell, not very ambitious. How they had become Slytherins was beyond his ability to understand. Though, he supposed it didn't really matter. They had. They were. And they were the closest thing to true friends he had. He just hoped they still would be after today. He also desperately hoped Greg didn't remember who, exactly, he had actually married. He shook his head, smirking. Considering the fact that the other Slytherin had forgotten to include her in the announcement mere hours after he'd been told, Draco didn't really think he had much to worry about on that score.

"Hello," he said, dropping into the stuffed chair across from them.

"Hullo," they replied together, turning to face him like two overly large, magically charmed book ends.

"Hey, Malfoy," Vincent said, "Professor Snape said we were here to go to your wedding."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, "umm, I thought you got married this summer?"

Draco chuckled. "I did," he replied smirking, not volunteering any further information.

They both frowned, sharing a confused look. "Umm," Vincent finally asked, "Why did Professor Snape say that, then?"

"Because it's true."

They just looked at him. Apparently he had confused them so badly, they didn't even know what to ask next.

This was fun, he decided. Unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of time to goof around. "This summer, I got married the muggle way--"

"The muggle way?" they exclaimed, cutting off his words. "Why?"

"To prove a point to my father. Now, Dumbledore is going to officiate at the proper Wizarding ceremony."

"Oh!" Greg replied.

"Well, that's alright then," Vincent approved.

This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped, but not as bad as he'd feared . . . so far, anyway.

"Who are you marrying? Vincent asked. "I didn't even know you fancied anyone."

"Me either," Greg agreed, prompting an confused look from Draco.

This was it. This was the moment where he found out whether or not he was going to lose his only two friends. "Granger," he said flatly.

They blinked at him, his words not even penetrating as far as he could tell.

After a shared, bemused look, they suddenly burst out laughing.

"Good one, Malfoy," Greg said after he managed to calm himself.

They thought he was joking! Well, he supposed he couldn't blame them much . . . all things considered. "I'm serious."

"The know-it-all Griff?" Greg asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes."

"The mudblood?!" Vincent asked.

"Yes!" Draco snapped, then frowned. "And don't call her that."

"Okay," Vincent agreed, sharing yet another look with Greg -- and yes, that really was getting annoying.

Greg opened his mouth, but Draco snapped first. "And before you ask; yes, best friend of Potter, one third of the 'golden trio'. That Granger."

"Why?" Greg asked.

Draco sighed. How much of the truth should he tell them? After all, it wasn't _just_ his secret. "She's pregnant."

Two jaws dropped as his friends stared at him, bug-eyed.

Greg was the first to recover enough to speak. "And you're sure it's yours?" he asked bluntly.

"Positive," he replied firmly. _It just isn't Granger's._

"You mean you and she-- You've already--"

Draco rolled his eyes at his friend. "Yes, Vincent," he said drily -- lying through his teeth, "_obviously_."

"Why?" Greg asked for a second time.

Draco frowned. "Why what?" he stalled. "Why have sex with her, or why marry her?"

Both Greg and Vincent rolled their eyes at him, but it was Vincent who replied. "I may not be the smartest bloke around, but I've got eyes. Hell, if I'd thought she'd have given me half a chance, I'd have tumbled her."

"Me, too."

"Watch it!" Draco snapped, seriously not liking what he felt at their words -- surprising as it was. "That's my fiancee you're talking about!"

"Relax, Draco," Greg said soothingly. "That was then. We get that she's off-limits now. Even if you weren't marrying her, she still would be."

Vincent frowned. "You do realize that your father isn't going to like this, right?" he suggested warily.

Draco let out a humorless snort. "That's putting it mildly," he agreed. "That's why we're doing it here, at Hogwarts, with next to no one knowing about it.

"And you told us?" Greg asked, just a hint of awe coloring his words.

Draco nodded, waiting.

Vincent frowned again. It seemed to be becoming a pretty much permanent fixture on his face. "So, what do you want from us?"

"Nothing," Draco said, then amended. "Just be there, and keep quiet about it until after its over and done with."

"That's all?" Greg verified.

Draco nodded. "Yes, that's all." What else would he want?

"Why us?" Greg asked after a couple of silent minutes -- more of _those_ looks passing between the two. "I mean, out of everyone you could have chosen to attend, why us?"

Draco shrugged, uncomfortable with his reasons. "You're my friends," he said simply. "Aren't you?"

Both nodded, then Greg gave Vincent another look.

To Draco's surprise, Vincent nodded to Greg, then got up and left the common room, all without saying a word.

"What was that all about," Draco demanded uneasily. Where was Vincent going? Had he made a mistake in trusting them?

"I wanted to talk to you alone."

Draco wanted to scoff, his innate paranoia rearing its head further. His eyes did narrow; though, he held off the worst of his disbelief. "And he knew that, how?" he asked drily. "Telepathy?"

Greg shrugged. "Just did."

Draco rolled his eyes. Obviously he wasn't going to get an answer that made sense. "What did you want?" he asked instead, wary of this 'private conference'.

Greg cocked his head to the side, as if silently assessing him.

It was a very disturbing feeling. He quickly shook it off. The oaf was probably trying to remember what he wanted to say.

"Granger wasn't the one you told me about back in June," he said quietly. "So which marriage is real?"

Draco's eyes widened. _Bloody hell!_ He'd been certain that Greg had forgotten. "Why didn't you say something earlier?" Draco asked, shoving aside the blatant reminder of his wife, concentrating solely on his friend instead. If he thought about that right now, he was lost. And that wasn't something he wanted to happen here.

Greg shrugged again. "Must have your reasons," he replied. "And I didn't know what I'm supposed to know."

Draco suddenly wondered if he'd been played all these years. He'd never thought them smart enough to do that, so he hadn't been worried about it, but then, he'd also never have credited Greg with enough intelligence to display the discretion he'd shown today, either.

He toyed with several different responses, but tossed them all aside. "My father had Katherine killed, he said finally, deciding on just a touch of the truth. He would see where that tidbit led.

Greg's eyes widened in shock. "It was because she wasn't completely pureblooded, wasn't it?" he asked after a moment, surprising Draco yet again. It was getting to be a habit, a bad habit -- one he did not like. Greg frowned and shook his head, indecision clear in his expression. Suddenly, his look . . . firmed and he sat up straight.

"So," he began slowly. "Why Granger, then?" he asked. "It can't be just to get back at your father."

Draco blinked. _Perceptive._ "I told you, she's pregnant." _And just why are you telling him this? Thought you wanted everyone to think you _wanted _this?_ He told his mental voice to sod off. This was his friend, and he -- and Vincent -- deserved at least part of the truth.

"That's bull," Greg said firmly. "If that was all there was to it, you could pay her off, or set her up as your mistress -- assuming she would allow it."

It was Draco's turn. His jaw dropped -- and he left it there for several seconds. As soon as he realized what a spectacle he must look, he snapped it shut. Okay, who was this and what had he done with Greg?

"Bloody hell!" Draco exclaimed, jumping to his feet. The light smirk playing across his so-called friend's face put a flame under his anger and he was about to start the biggest rant of his life. It was the short flicker of hope that he saw only as it died in Greg's eyes that swept the rug out from under him.

He sank back into his chair, far too intimately familiar with that apparent feeling than he was comfortable with. He had come into this room with it, and now it was being reflected back at him. That was all that kept him from letting loose his anger at being deceived.

"Why give yourself away now?" Draco asked as quietly as he could. "You had me completely fooled."

Greg started to shrug, but apparently thought better of the move. "You trusted us, so we're going to trust you."

"As simple as that?"

"As simple as that."

Draco snorted, this time with actual amusement. "Mutual blackmail material?"

"That would be the Slytherin way."

Draco's eyes narrowed, something about the way Greg had said that. . . . "But that's not the way you meant it," he concluded, "is it?"

Greg paused only a moment. "No, it isn't."

Draco took a deep, stablizing breath. This was big. While it was easy to figure out why Vince and Greg had acted the way they had all these years, it wasn't so easy to figure out why Greg had given it up. It made no sense to Draco. He shook his head. While he may not understand it, something told him, he had to give in equal measure, or he really would lose their friendship.

"Get Vincent in here," he said softly, surprised to discover he was trembling. "We need to talk." He watched as Greg nodded, moving to retrieve the other Slytherin.

_What do you think you are doing!?_ Draco asked himself frantically. _Completely discounting this is __**not**__ very Slytherin of you; it isn't just your secret to share!_

"He knows," Draco heard Greg say, just as he opened the common room door.

Draco shook his head. What he was doing here, just might doom any chance his marriage had of being a success -- _if_ she found out about it. He frowned. He had no clue how he was going to honor his debt to Hermione and still be honest with his friends.

_Honesty is highly over-rated._

He sighed as his two friends sat back down, still wondering. It was just as he opened his mouth that inspiration hit.

"I haven't been completely honest with you," Draco began carefully. He had the full instant attention of both of the other Slytherins. "But before I can reveal it all to you, I have to ask you to take a wand oath."

They both frowned, an angry glint in their eyes. Before they could protest, however, Draco quickly continued.

"It isn't just my secret to share. Somehow, I don't think Hermione has nearly as much trust in you as I do," he said with a smirk. _Considering I can safely say that she has __**none**__ that's not saying all that much,_ he admitted to himself, but he actually did trust them; something he'd truly not been aware of until now.

They nodded, almost as one, withdrawing their wands the same way. It was only a matter of a minute, and both Slytherins had sworn, binding themselves magically to their oaths. They sat back down and waited, expectantly, both their looks saying that what Draco had to say had better be worth it.

_It is,_ he thought with wry amusement.

Draco paused only a moment to gather his thoughts, then launched into an explanation of the unbelievable events of the last few months. By the time his explanation had reached the couch in Professor Snape's chambers, they were both staring at him, completely gobsmacked.

"Granger did that? Holier than thou, I'm better than any Slytherin, did that?" Vincent asked.

Draco winced at hearing his own, initial, thoughts parroted back at him, but he nodded. "Yeah."

Greg and Vince were both quiet for long enough that Draco began to get worried.

"I can see why you required a wand oath," Greg admitted finally, relieving Draco.

He snorted.

"Wouldn't want her pissed at me, if I was married to her," Vincent agreed.

Greg smirked, nodding to Vincent, then turned serious again. "How are you going to prevent your father from hauling the both of you to the manor after you're married and finishing the job? I mean, running obviously didn't work the first time."

This was the last part he dreaded. He knew it would work, as much because Dumbledore -- and Professor Snape -- would keep them here at Hogwarts against his father's demands, leaving the Wisengamet as his father's only recourse. The problem with that was, the law upheld their claims, not his father's -- despite the gender issue. The law didn't stipulate gender specifically, just by inference. That wasn't the problem. He was afraid Greg and Vince would find the idea ridiculous.

He quickly outlined what had been decided, revealing as little as he felt about the whole thing as he could, nearly holding his breath when he finished.

"Bloody brilliant, that is!" Vincent praised.

Draco smirked. "Don't tell Hermione that," he warned. "She might get a swelled head."

Greg's eyes widened. "She's the one who thought of it?"

Draco nodded.

Greg let out a wondering, "huh."

Vincent, on the other hand, tilted his head, considering Draco.

"What?" Draco demanded when it went on long enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you think of it?"

Draco blinked, then shrugged. It wasn't like he had a good answer to that. It really had been an inspired idea.

"I wonder what house she would have been sorted into if she hadn't been a mu-- muggleborn," Greg mused.

Draco's jaw dropped. He hadn't thought of that. It was certainly a cunning plan -- even if it wasn't exactly subtle.

A perfunctory knock on the common room door made all three Slytherins jump, and Draco was surprised to see the old 'thick' Greg and Vince suddenly sitting across from him. It was just plain creepy!

"It is time to get ready, Mr. Malfoy."

tbc  
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	14. Chapter 14

AN: Someone asked for me to write the scene where Mr. Malfoy receives the money from Hermione. While I had already written past that point, I am considering writing a one-shot 'companion' story that would be that scene. : )

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Chapter Fourteen  
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"I don't think I'm going to make it!" Hermione exclaimed, swallowing rapidly. Her stomach was protesting her nervousness in no uncertain terms.

"Sit," Professor McGonagall ordered.

Hermione sat, abruptly, something else her stomach didn't care for, and she nearly had to sprint for the loo -- not that she knew for certain where it was, here.

"Take a couple of deep breaths," McGonagall said soothingly.

Hermione nodded, doing as she was told. It helped . . . a little. She still felt like she was going to pass out, though.

"Better?"

Offering up the best smile she could -- a shaky, sickly thing she was sure -- Hermione nodded carefully. "Are you sure Draco has agreed to this?" she asked hesitantly. "He didn't take well to being the one to change his name in the first place. This is just. . ." her words trailed off. She simply couldn't find an adjective suitable to what this was.

"Professor Snape and the headmaster are speaking to him about it now," Professor McGonagall replied evenly.

Hermione's eyes widened what felt comically wide, and her stomach flipped several times. "You mean he's just now being told?!" she screeched, clearing her throat immediately after.

McGonagall nodded once, but didn't say anything more.

"Oh, God!" Hermione breathed. "This is not going to go over well."

x-x-x

The Drs. Granger stared at him in shock for several moments before Miss Granger's mother shook herself. "And this spell she cast to do this, is illegal you say?"

Albus nodded. "Yes."

"Why?" the man sitting beside her asked bluntly, sharply.

"Because of the profound possibilities for its potential misuse," he replied quietly, carefully explaining the process as well as he could -- hopefully without confusing or utterly horrifying the two muggles. That was the last thing he wanted. Telling Miss Granger's parents of her current situation could so easily backfire on him, and instead of helping out the overwhelmed young woman he could possibly make the whole situation that much worse. He just hoped this wasn't one of those times he was spectacularly wrong. "It isn't a gentle process, and is certainly not appropriate in any but the most dire of circumstances." He paused, debating with himself before continuing. "Most people do not have the wherewithal to understand when it might actually be a good thing to use what is usually referred to as the dark arts, and of course there are some that should never, ever be cast, as the consequences to the person casting them can be as severe to them as to the person the spell is being cast on."

"But this isn't one of those spells?"

"It is . . . on the borderline. In some circumstances, it would be. In this specific case, I believe I can safely say that Miss Granger's intentions were certainly pure enough that there should be no lasting effects. One of the biggest problems, is that, generally speaking, the dark arts are . . . seductive," he continued, not entirely certain how to convey exactly how dangerous the dark arts usually were and why those dangers might not apply much in this case. Mr. Granger saved him the trouble.

"Power begets power," he said softly, sounding as if he were quoting something. "And absolute power, corrupts absolutely."

Albus was surprised, his eyebrow arching upward. "Exactly," was all he said.

Mrs. Granger frowned. "If she used this spell with the right intentions, and actually saved her friend's baby, then why must she hide what she did?"

Albus frowned. "While I have always been of the mind that intent is the most important aspect to consider when confronted with what could be construed as misdeeds, there are those in power who would disagree, and tend to slap down anything remotely hinting at the dark arts. They fear what they do not understand. If your daughter's sacrifice should become common knowledge, she would most definitely be expelled, and lose her right to be part of the wizarding world. She would very likely be sentenced to Azkaban prison as well."

Mrs. Granger gasped.

"So, if what she did was so dangerous -- legally speaking -- why are you telling us about it?" Mr. Granger asked, a small amount of confusion bleeding through his anger. "Shouldn't you be letting her decide what to tell us?"

"In most circumstances, Dr. Granger," Albus replied with an acknowledging nod, "I would. There are, however, extenuating circumstances."

Mrs. Granger slumped. "What else has gone wrong?"

"Hogwarts has a long standing history, and a rather rigid set of rules of behavior," he began.

The Dr's. Granger nodded impatiently, obviously willing him to get to the point.

"Since we cannot reveal the true circumstances behind how Miss Granger came to be carrying Mr. Malfoy's child, we must leave it to the masses to assume that it occured . . . naturally."

Mrs. Granger actually growled, and Albus blinked in surprise, almost chuckling -- thankfully he repressed the urge. He suspected this mother was just as protective as many others he'd met.

"And that means what, exactly?" she asked archly.

"It means that unmarried young women who fall pregnant are not allowed to continue their education at Hogwarts," he replied flatly, then watched as outrage transformed the expressions of both parents.

Mr. Granger sat up straight, his bearing one hundred percent outraged protector on the prowl. "Since you know what truly happened, why haven't you simply made an exception?" he demanded. "You are the headmaster, are you not? And I'd be willing to bet half my fortune that it would not be the first exception to that . . . _antiquated_ rule."

"You're right," Albus agreed. "It would not be the first time an exception has been made. However, with the political climate the way it currently is, and with certain factions out to control Hogwarts by any methods they can manage, I would find myself summarily dismissed as headmaster were I to make such an exception for a muggleborn student."

"A mudblood, you mean," Mrs. Granger spat viciously.

"That is certainly how it would be viewed by those seeking to depose me," he carefully replied, not managing to hide his wince entirely. He was quite surprised that Miss Granger had been so . . . forthcoming with her parents about the bigotry she had faced at school. Over the years, he had found that most muggleborn students tended to gloss over the details, afraid that their parents would pull them from their new world in reaction to it.

"So, you're telling us that Hermione will be coming home, that she won't be able to finish her schooling after doing something so selfless for a friend?"

"No, actually, I'm not," he replied, smiling now. "What I am here to do, is ask you if you wanted to attend your daughter's wedding?"

"Wedding!" Mrs. Granger yelped.

Mr. Granger, on the other hand, nodded firmly, huffing. "So, which young man came to my daughter's rescue?" he asked. "One of those two friends of hers, or the father of the child?"

"Your daughter will be marrying young Mr. Malfoy in about and hour and a half."

"That poor young man!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed. "That can't be easy for him."

"No, indeed, it is not easy for him," Albus agreed, taking a deep breath before continuing to explain the rest of the problems facing the young couple, and the solutions to it they had found. Miss Granger's father's reaction puzzled him, though. He certainly understood the impact the decisions would have on Mr. Malfoy. He had said as much. It was the almost hidden sense of . . . satisfaction that the man not-quite radiated that confused him. Apparently the man sensed his confusion, because his next words cleared it away.

"As much as I sympathize with the young man," he said softly, managing a slight, wry smile, "I must admit to some . . . pleasure than my own family name will not die out. The Granger family line goes back unbroken for centuries -- though, the spelling and pronunciation of the name itself has changed twice throughout our history."

x-x-x

Draco restlessly paced from one end of the room to the other, his nerves raw. Greg and Vincent, on the other hand, sat on the small divan smirking.

"Just wait until this happens to you," he snarled, not feeling at all charitable toward his friends. "Then, we'll see who's laughing."

Greg snorted, shaking his head. "I think this is a once in a millenia occurance, Draco, which means Vincent and I are rather safe."

Draco rolled his eyes at his friend. "I _meant_ getting married," he replied drily.

"What I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around is that you're not going to be a Malfoy much longer," Vincent offered, looking rather bewildered. "It boggles."

"Dear Merlin," Draco breathed, sitting suddenly. "I," he paused, swallowing heavily, "haven't been thinking about that." He shook his head, feeling particularly disbelieving at the situation he was in, now that it was bludgeoning him on the head. "I can't believe I'm doing it!"

"I thought you planned it to stay out of your father's reach," Greg offered quietly.

Draco frowned, glaring. "I'm well aware of that!" he snapped angrily. _That_ was entirely besides the point! It didn't make one whit of difference to the fact that he was bloody well going to be a _Granger_ in less than a half an hour! 'It boggles' didn't even come close to what it did!

"Just making sure you remembered that," Greg replied evenly.

_As if I could forget!_ Draco thought with a snort. If there had been any other way around that, he would have snatched it up in a heartbeat. "I'm not likely to," was all he said, though.

"Good," Greg replied, looking like he was going to say more. He was interrupted by the office door sliding open, however, the headmaster walking in.

"Good afternoon, Gentlemen," he greeted them, his eyes as maddeningly 'delighted' as always. "Are the three of you ready, then?" he asked.

Draco instantly shook his head, but rose. "Yes, Sir," he said, completely contradicting his thoughts. It wasn't until he was half way to the door that he realized Professor Snape was waiting in the hall. His eyes widened as he took in the dress robes his godfather was wearing. He was wearing the ornate silver and grey of the Malfoy house. The man wasn't standing as his witness, he was standing as his _father_! Draco swallowed convulsively at the sight, entirely uncertain what he felt about that. After the initial shock wore off, however, he could see that Professor Snape was watching him warily, almost . . . uneasily. Why?

The headmaster stepped closer, when he spoke, his voice a near whisper. "Professor Snape and I realized something important while the two of you were . . . preparing your friends. Magic rituals can be . . . tricky things."

_Tell me something I don't know!_ Draco replied silently, allowing none of his impatience to show in his expression . . . he hoped.

"Just as we had to follow the traditions with the . . . groom price, both of us believe we must also follow all the other ritual componants to the letter to magically ensure that you are indeed marrying into the Granger family instead of the reverse. We cannot leave anything to chance."

Draco frowned, not completely understanding what the headmaster was refering to. The basics were obvious, but he was unutterably certain he was refering to something more specific than . . . generalities.

"What the headmaster is so tactfully trying to say here, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape cut in caustically, "is that you will be taking the role of bride in the ceremony from beginning to end."

Draco gaped. _I am __**not**__ a bride!_ A quickly cut off snicker from behind him, had him glaring at Vincent for just a moment before returning to his godfather. "What do you mean by that?" he bit out.

By the time Professor Snape had finished explain that _he_ would be taking the traditional bride vows and Hermione would be taking the ones he'd thought he'd be taking, Draco's world had narrowed to grey fog. He felt a vial thrust into his hand.

"Drink!"

"Yes, Sir," he responded dully, but didn't move. He didn't appreciate the snort of laughter from his godfather, the man who was _supposed_ to be on _his_ side of things!

"You'll live through it, Draco," his godfather said, his voice surprisingly gentle as he assisted with getting the contents of the vial into Draco's mouth.

He swallowed automatically and almost immediately the grey fog melted away as he felt calm sweep through him. He took a deep, relaxing breath and finally met his godfather's eyes. "A half dose?" he asked, curious.

Professor Snape nodded. "I cannot give you a whole one, Mr. Malfoy, because it needs to wear off before the ceremony begins."

Draco nodded. That made sense. The ceremony had to begin with both participants of 'sound mind'. He just hoped that scared out of his mind still counted as 'sound', because there simply weren't any other options. What he was doing today, right now, was going to completely change his life forever. He just hoped that when the artifical calm wore off that he wouldn't embarrass himself by completing the traditional 'bride' role by becoming anything near resembling hysterical.

_Oh, be honest with yourself, if no one else!_ he thought to himself snidely. _You're bloody well hoping you won't bloody well pass out!_

"Now that, that is out of the way," the headmaster said brightly, "there is someone here who would like to meet you."

Draco blinked. _What?_ "Who?" he asked, not really caring -- at the moment -- that it wasn't exactly the most polite response he could have made. Fortunately, the headmaster just chuckled.

"Dr. Granger?" the headmaster called.

_Granger!?_ Draco thought in sudden panic. The only Grangers he knew of were-- _Oh no!_ He swallowed convulsively, hoping he was wrong. He'd never even met a muggle before, _ever_. He really didn't want the first one to be his future _Eep!_ in-law!

x-x-x

Hermione stood near the head table in the Great Hall; though, why they were doing this is such a large room was beyond her understanding. It wasn't like they had hundreds of people attending, after all. She had been surprised when Professor McGonagall had quickly briefed her on the ceremony, telling her what would happen and that it would be held here. Many parts of it were very similar to a muggle ceremony and a small part of her wondered whether the magical had influenced the muggle, or whether it was the other way around. Parts of it, though, were quite different -- of course. What was really bothering her at the moment, however, was the very _traditional_ vows they would take.

Unfortunately, the traditions and laws they were invoking -- used mainly by the oldest pureblood family these days -- also used the old vows. And while that _might_ not matter in the long run, none of them wanted to chance what Malfoy money and influence might buy within the ministry should they not observe all the legal technicalities. She sighed, turning her attention outward. Harry and Ron stood beside her, just as if she really was the groom. It felt very, very odd, as did waiting for Draco to be the one to walk up to her. Any time she'd given even a moment's thought to getting married -- which she had to admit hadn't been very often over the years -- she had always pictured her dad walking her down the aisle.

She felt unwanted tears gather in her eyes as it suddenly hit her. She was getting married without her parents. Oh, but she so wanted them here! She just wished she'd had the guts to tell them what was going on when she'd had the chance. Hindsight informing her all too tartly that they wouldn't have known a dark ritual from a light one and that she could have simply left out that tiny little fact. They certainly wouldn't have faulted her for saving the life of a friend's child, no matter the trouble or potential scandal it brought.

She frowned. Then again, maybe not. After all, when she'd truly had the chance, or rather the time, she hadn't realized it would all be 'out in the open' so to speak. She jumped when the door to the Great hall open. _Oh, God! It's time,_ she thought in near panic, only to feel her jaw drop open in complete shock; shock that lasted only a second before she found herself running.

TBC Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Oh, yes, pretty please. : )~


	15. Chapter 15

Warning: a bit of mush between mother and daughter this chapter. : )~

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Chapter Fifteen  
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"Mum!" Hermione screamed, running full out toward her mother, half a dozen overwhelming emotions coursing through her and down her cheeks with her tears. "What are you doing here?" she gasped, squeezing her mother into a tight bear hug. She was relieved to have the hug returned full measure, her mother holding on just as tightly.

"Oh, baby!" she cried. "I'm so proud of you."

Shock stole through her, making her pull back at stare. "What?" she asked, stunned. "You're what? Why?" she continued, her hand straying unconsciously toward her stomach.

"Oh, honey, of course we're proud of you," she repeated, cupping Hermione's face in her palms. "As to why; why not? You've done, and are doing, what's right, not what was easy."

One sob escaped Hermione before she could stop it, only to find herself back inside strong comforting arms. She had been so utterly certain her parents would be angry and disappointed. _Wait?_ "Why isn't dad here?" she whispered faintly. "Is he . . . angry?"

Her mum chuckled. "No, dear, he's no more angry at you than I am. Right now, he's being introduced to your fiance."

Hermione jerked backward, her eyes widening in odd mix of surprise, horror, and something to which she couldn't quite put a name. "He's what?" she asked faintly, not entirely certain she had heard correctly. She just really hoped both of them survived the encounter.

"Now, don't worry, honey. He's not going to eat him," her mum assured with a smile.

Hermione let out a nervous laugh. "Which him?" she asked, only half joking.

Her mum just shook her head, still smiling, and pulled back surveying her from head to toe. "You look beautiful, dear."

Hermione blushed instantly. "Professor McGonagall loaned it to me. We fixed it up together."

Her mum's eyes widened in surprise. "Was it hers when she got married?"

Blinking in surprise, Hermione shook her head. "I . . . don't know," she replied. "I don't think so, though. I don't even know if Professor McGonagall was ever married.

Her mum smirked. "Of course not," she said with another chuckle. "Teachers don't have pasts."

"Mum!"

x-x-x

Draco gulped as he watched Dr. Granger approach. He seemed . . . intimidating -- even if he was a muggle. He was tall and . . . big. He couldn't help but notice that the man was wearing well tailored clothing of the finest material -- despite being obviously muggle in origin.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Draco nodded, his "yes, Sir," given on automatic as was clasping the man's hand. _I'm shaking a __**muggle's**__ hand!_ he thought uneasily; though, he did try to keep that unease from showing. He was not altogether certain just how successful he was. He thought some of it must have shown through, though, because Professor Snape stepped a little closer and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"We don't have a lot of time," Dr. Granger said, peering at him closely, "so, I suppose I'll get right to the point. Albus told us what's going on and why, and I just want to say, as long as you treat our Hermione right, you'll have no problems with us."

Relief swept through Draco, weakening his knees just a bit. "Thank you, Sir," he replied. "I owe your daughter more than I can ever repay. I assure you, I do intend to 'treat her right'."

Dr. Granger nodded firmly. "Good. I look forward to getting to know you, then. Shall we get this show on the road?"

Draco frowned. They were going somewhere, leaving Hogwarts? That wasn't a good idea. "What road?" he asked. "We're planning on doing this right here."

Dr. Granger laughed; though, Draco wasn't certain what was funny. "I think I'm going to like you, young man. It's just an expression, one that I suppose isn't popular here. It just means shall we get started."

Draco just shook his head. Muggles were weird. Why didn't they just say what they meant? The muggleborn and muggleraised always did that, spouted off odd phrases that made absolutely no sense to him. It was with a purely internal sigh that it hit him that he was probably going to have to get used to that -- even, learn what the weird phrases actually meant. He nearly slumped. He _really_ didn't want to have to learn a foreign language. And as much as they supposedly spoke english, it was _still_ a foreign language.

The headmaster stepped in then. "If you'll follow me, Dr. Granger?" he asked. When Dr. Granger nodded, the two of them headed for the Great Hall.

Draco took a deep breath and stepped forward, only to be stopped by the hand still on his shoulder. Surprised, he turned to look at his godfather, a question in his eyes. Despite who the older wizard was to him, he was something of an enigma. On the one hand, he seemed to be very . . . accepting of everything that was happening, which Draco really didn't understand. What did it all really mean? Did it mean that the professor cared more about _him_ than about being a deatheater? Or was there some deeper meaning to it all? Why had he held him back? Had he waited all this time, hoping that Draco would change his mind? What would the man do now that it was obvious he wasn't going to change his mind, that he really was going to go through with this?

"Draco," Professor Snape began, sounding strangely hesitant, "we both know that I am not a . . . demonstrative man."

_That's an understatement!_ Draco thought, but swallowed it unsaid, more than a little nervous about where this was headed.

"But, I wanted the chance to say that I'm . . . proud of how you've handled this situation."

Draco felt his eyes widened in complete surprise. He had really not expected that. He was just glad he managed to keep his jaw where it belonged; he could feel it wanting to drop. _What?_ "Thank you, Sir," he managed to say, despite everything, a warm burst flooding his chest.

Professor Snape nodded once, letting his hand slip from Draco's shoulder. "Shall we?" he asked, one hand indicating that Draco should precede him.

Nodding once, himself, Draco turned without saying anything more. What more was there to say right then? His questions could wait, he supposed; though, he wished he had time to actually grill the man. There was a single burning question on his mind right now, one he _really_ wanted answered above all the others. Was his godfather loyal to the Dark Lord or not? He almost snorted as he approached the entrance to the Great Hall. Somehow, he doubted he'd get a straight answer to that question even if he _had_ been stupid enough to ask.

As he approached the doors to the Great Hall, however, he slowed, panic seizing his chest. _Merlin's Beard! The potion must have worn off!_

_Kathryn, stand by me,_ he asked silently, hoping the thought of her approval would steady him through the ceremony. The hand that returned to his shoulder, added to several slow, deep breaths did help, and he pushed open the doors and proudly walked inside. He slid his Slytherin mask into place, definitely not wanting either Potter or the Weasel to realize just how . . . nervous he really was. He nearly gasped, however, the moment he noticed Hermione. While, on some level, he'd realized that the girl he was marrying could be quite beautiful when she put her mind to it -- all he had to do was think back to fourth year's yule ball to know that -- he hadn't truly realized she would make such an effort here and now.

As he walked toward her, he was suddenly very glad he'd hooked up with Madam Pomfrey earlier, because the dress Hermione was wearing was truly magnificent. Fine, off-white silk clung to her body down to her hips, hilighting the slightly rounded bulge of her belly. It flared out from there, yards of material draping loosely around her legs. Draco hesitated, his eyes taking in everyone's presence; everyone, that was, except those he had always most expected to be at his wedding. It emphasized everything that was wrong, causing a deep ache to burst open inside his chest.

It was only the firm, supporting hand that grasp his elbow that allowed him to continue forward, ensuring he didn't make a fool of himself in front of everyone present.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger smiled at him, and he found a small one to return, though, in his opinion, it was a bit weak. Dumbledore, as always -- well almost always -- looked delighted. Crabbe and Goyle were both smirking at him, and he just _knew_ they'd taken bets as to whether or not he'd run. Insulted at the very idea, Draco squared his shoulders, continuing his slow walk forward.

Of course, Potter and the Weasel weren't smiling; though, even he had to admit they weren't quite glaring at him either. Which, he supposed, was about the best he was going to get at this point. They did seem . . . uncomfortable, though. _Well, join the club,_ he thought sourly.

Before he realized it, he was standing next to Hermione, and Professor Snape was placing his hand in hers. He smirked wryly when he realized that her hand was shaking just as much as his was. It was comforting to realize he wasn't alone in his nerves.

"Witches and Wizards, honored guests," Dumbledore began, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear.

_Oh Merlin! It's happening!_ Draco swallowed convulsively, and tried to follow what the headmaster was saying.

"We are here to witness the joining of two families, the joining of one Draco Lucius Malfoy to Hermione Jane Granger."

Draco cast a quick glance at Hermione, nervously wondering just what she was thinking. She smiled encouragingly at him, though, it was just as shaky as the hand he held.

"You two have surmounted many dangerous obstacles, prejudice, and trials to be standing before us today, and you will face many more together, not the least of which will be pressure from family and friends. Take what you have learned separately that has enable you to reach this point, and use it together. Together you are stronger than apart, and if you stick by each other and present a united front, you will prevail against the masses."

Draco swallowed nervously, casting a hesitant glance to Hermione. The headmaster was right. The odds that the two of them -- out of all the students at Hogwarts -- would be here, getting married were astronomical. A brief shiver of superstitious fear weaved its way through him as he wondered how much fate had to do with what had happened.

"Draco Malfoy," the headmaster continued, instantly snapping Draco's attention back to him, "do you stand here, before me, for the purposes of bonding, of your own accord, freely and willingly?"

"I do," he replied, gratified when he voice came out steady, if a bit breathy.

"Hermione Granger, do you stand here, before me, for the purposes of bonding, of your own accord, freely and willingly?"

It was a moment before Hermione replied, her voice as breathy as his had been when she did. "I do," she said quietly.

"Professor Severus Tobias Snape, do you, standing as Draco Malfoy's godfather, allow that he should bind himself to the Granger family, in accordance with all the old laws and traditions -- a right given unto you by the petitioner's own parents?"

"I do so allow," Professor Snape replied evenly.

"Draco, do you hereby swear you are joining the Granger family with full knowledge, that in doing so, you are forsaking all obligations and loyalties to your birth family, and that hereafter and forever you will be bound to uphold the honor and integrity of your spouse's family, that you are hereby agreeing to be bound by the laws set down by the head of that family?"

Draco swallowed once more, his mouth seemingly as dry as a desert. This was it; this was the oath that would free him from his father. Taking a deep, almost-soothing breath, he nodded. "I do so swear."

"Dr. Ian Granger," Dumbledore continued, turning slightly to face Hermione's father, "do you accept Draco Malfoy's oath and his request to become family to you and yours, to come under your wise guidance and leadership, to forever hereafter be treated as blood, by you and your kin?"

"I do so accept Draco Malfoy as kin to my daughter, and thereby as kin to myself and to all Grangers of my line."

Draco started, surprised that the muggle knew the appropriate response. He supposed, though, that he had to have been coached by someone. They had to get everything right, after all. _Almost done,_ he thought, beyond nervous now.

"Hermione Granger, do you accept Draco Malfoy's oath to stand as your spouse, and accept him into your family forever?"

"I do," she replied, more easily this time.

"Hermione and Draco, please face each other and take both hands as a symbol of your willingness to complete your vows; left hand to left hand, right hand to right hand."

They did so easily; though, Draco could see Hermione looked a little green. He dearly hoped her morning sickness would hold off until after the ceremony was over. Interrupting magic rituals was never a good thing.

"Repeat after me, Hermione," the headmaster said. Draco didn't once take his eyes away from hers as they each repeated their vows, the headmaster's words quiet and unobtrusive.

"In the presence of these witnesses, my father, and your godfather, I, Hermione Jane Granger, do take you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to be my bonded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward. Through sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer. I will devote my life to providing a home for you and to sheltering you and any children we may have. Never shall I abandon you, for where I shall live, there you shall be made welcome and expected."

Out of his peripheral vision, Draco absently noted the slight glow beginning to emanate from their joined left hands, the magic of their vows taking shape.

"I swear to cherish and protect you for as long as we both shall live."

Draco drew in a decidedly shaky breath and began his own vows, repeating the quiet words as prompted by the headmaster.

"In the presence of these witnesses, your father, and my godfather, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do take you, Hermione Jane Granger, to be my bonded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward. Through sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer. I will devote my life to providing a safe haven for you and any children we may have. Never shall I leave you, or return from following you, for where ever you shall go, I shall go also. Where you shall stay, so shall I stay. Your people shall be my people, in all things and in all ways."

The light expanded and brightened as he added his vows.

"I swear to . . . honor and o-obey you for as long as we both shall live," he continued, stumbling over only a single word.

"Dr. Ellen Granger, our traditions have long had both rings and bracelets as ever present symbols of bonding vows. Which have you and your husband chosen?"

"We have chosen bracelets to represent the vows our children have taken today."

The headmaster nodded once, reaching out a hand to accept the bracelets from Dr. Granger.

"Once clasped, these present a never ending circle, a symbol of the eternal nature of the vows taken here today. Draco and Hermione, please release your right hands." Once they had done so, the headmaster continued. "Hermione, please take this bonding bracelet in your right hand and place it upon your new spouse's left wrist, repeating after me as you lock it into place."

"As I lock this bracelet onto your wrist, I do so as physical aspect of my vows to you," she repeated as she locked the clasp, not removing her hand after she was finished. "And may each time I catch sight of it, I be reminded of the vows I have taken here today, that I may never be forsworn."

Once again the magic brightened, expanding further to include the bracelet now permanently locked into place on Draco's wrist.

"And now, you, Draco, take this bonding bracelet in your right hand and place it on Hermione's left wrist, repeating after me as you lock it into place."

"As I lock this bracelet onto your wrist, I do so as physical aspect of my vows to you," he repeated as he locked the clasp, not removing his hand after he was finished. "And may each time I catch sight of it, I be reminded of the vows I have taken here today, that I may never be forsworn."

The border alarms denoting someone had passed the outer walls, someone that approached with malicious intent.

Everyone jumped and several gasps were heard.

"Well, I suppose we should continue this quickly, then," the headmaster said brightly -- too brightly in Draco's opinion.

"By the power given me by the petitioners, both male and female, and the familial representatives of each, I now pronounce you husband and wife, souls bonded for eternity. Please now, exchange a kiss, pledging your troth one to the other, and sealing the vows you have both taken henceforth and forever."

Hermione met him halfway, and their lips pressed together for the first time, both gasping as the magic flared outward from their clasped hands in a blinding flash.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Draco's father shouted, as he stormed through the entrance to the great hall, throwing a large bag of soft leather onto the floor between him and everyone else.

The headmaster chuckled, stepping down from the dias upon which the entire bonding party stood. "Hello, Lucius," he greeted genially, even as every invited person present stepped between he and Hermione, and his irate father. "I am sorry to say that you are too late to watch your son's bonding ceremony. We had hoped that the owl would reach you in time to allow you the pleasure of attending."

"Pleasure?" his father sneered angrily. "There is no pleasure here, only insult. Draco, come here. We are going home."

"Come now, Lucius," the headmaster cajoled, still overly cheerful -- though, Draco was shaking harder now than during the ceremony itself. This was the true test, he supposed, eyeing what appeared to be very official looking . . . goons, behind his father. "Surely you have no intention of separating this newly bonded couple. The vows have just been sealed and we were about to adjourn to the bonding feast. You are, of course, welcome to attend that and celebrate with your son.

"Bonded?" his father spat, "they could not have bonded without my presence.

Professor Snape stepped forward then. "I stood in your place, Lucius, as is my right as Draco's godfather."

"How _dare_ you!"

Professor Snape shook his head. "What was I to do, Lucius," he asked, to all appearances confused, "allow the boy to sully the name Malfoy by refusing to allow him to marry the mother of his child?"

"Child?!" his father croaked. "Impossible!"

"I'm afraid not, Lucius," Professor Snape insisted. "It has been confirmed."

Draco frowned from his spot of safety hidden behind most of a crowd. _It has?_ He shared a confused look with Hermione who shrugged in reply at the same moment he did.

"Fine!" his father snapped, clearly at the end of his limited patience, "both of you come with me then." He chuckled, then, the sound as evil a sound as Draco had ever heard. "And may I be the first to . . . _welcome_ you to the family, _Hermione_."

Draco shivered, his hand tightening around Hermione's. Hers tightened right back. Neither of them was under absolutely any illusions about what would happen if they were made to go with him.

"I find that I must protest that, Mr. Malfoy," Dr. Granger replied smoothly, stepping forward to stand beside the headmaster -- the male Dr. Granger, that was.

"Who are you?" Draco's father sneered, eyeing the man as if he were less than an insect under his boot.

"I am Hermione's father, Draco's father-in-law," he replied, voice still smooth and even.

Lucius Malfoy scoffed. "You have no say in the matter. The moment that insolent chit married my son, she fell under _my_ jurisdiction.

"I'm afraid you are in error," Dr. Granger replied. "D--"

"Are you trying to tell me you understand wizarding culture better than _I_ do, _muggle_?"

Dr. Granger smiled then. "Of course not, such an assertion would be absurd."

"Glad that's settled, muggle," Lucius Malfoy continued, immediately turning away from Dr. Granger. "Dr--"

"I do, however, know more about the current situation than you do."

Draco's eyes widened as Dr. Granger explained and Lucius Malfoy's face darkened in rage.

"Hermione has not married into your family," Dr. Granger said smoothly, grinning now, "Young Draco has married into mine. Perhaps, I should introduce you to the newest Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"

Lucius Malfoy gaped, momentarily lost for words.

It didn't last long enough in Draco's considered opinion -- and yes, he was ignoring the 'introduction'. It would be too weird, otherwise!

"That's why you sent the money?" Lucius Malfoy spat, throwing a hand out obliquely, refering to the bag he'd thrown to the floor.

Dr. Granger shook his head. "Of course not. My daughter sent it, following proper protocol as I am given to understand it. I believe; though, I'm not entirely certain what to call it now, it's traditionally referred to as a 'bride price'. Groom price, perhaps?"

An angry snarl as his expression, Lucius Malfoy spun away to face the goons behind him. "Find a way to correct this!"

Both of them shook their heads. "We cannot. You, of course, have the right to bring the matter before the wizengamet to make sure everything was completed properly. If it was not, then you may have some leverage."

Lucius spun back around, livid and snarling. "This is _not_ over!" he sneered, directing his comment to everyone present. He stralked angrily out of the room.

No one stopped him, nor the 'goon' who picked the bag of galleons back up.

No one breathed easily until all three wizards had not only left the room, but left the grounds as well.

The headmaster's quiet, "they've passed through the gates," had everyone blowing out forceful breaths of profound relief.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Oh yes, Pretty please with cream and sugar on top. : )


	16. Chapter 16

Just a little reminder, disclaimers and warnings in prologue still apply. I don't own these characters.  
Mistress Malfoy-- No need to apologize. In fact, Thank You! I have fought with that bloody word for so long! (no access to the books anymore) I just couldn't figure out, quite, what I was doing wrong with it.  
AN: While reading this, don't assume any specific outcome, LOL. Where this chapter headed changed at least four times while I was writing it, sometimes from one paragraph to the next. : )

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Chapter Sixteen  
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No one moved for a long time, everyone's nerves tense and slow to relax.

"Oh, my," Hermione breathed, her voice shaky and faint.

Draco frowned, almost instantly drawn out of his own preoccupation. She didn't look good. She's entirely too pale, he thought. No sooner had it registered, than Hermione began to sink toward the floor. Draco leapt toward her, managing to catch her and help ease her down. She was trembling, badly. "It's over for now," Draco whispered as he continued to support her.

Hermione nodded absently.

"Well," Dr. Granger said suddenly, "that was bracing!"

Professor Snape -- as well as Hermione -- snorted, the former following Headmaster Dumbledore back toward the dias

The Grangers. . . Draco frowned, his thoughts twisting a touch. The _elder_ Grangers crossed toward them and knelt beside Hermione. The female Dr. Granger enveloped Hermione into a hug, apparently uncaring that Draco got included. "It'll be alright," she murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not so sure," she replied quietly.

Dr. Granger lay a hand on Hermione's shoulder, the only part of her that wasn't currently being held. "It will be, Pumpkin."

_Pumpkin!?_ Draco thought incredulously. _What a nickname!_ He was suddenly very grateful for the fact that neither of his parents had ever saddled him with so silly a nickname. The worst had been the times his mother had referred to him as 'her little Dragon'. Which, while he had to admit that it wasn't exactly a . . . manly sort of name, it was a far sight better than '_Pumpkin_ -- and at least, she had never used it in public.

"How?" Hermione asked, a question with which Draco agreed whole heartedly.

His father was angry, very angry, and as he'd said, it wasn't over yet. It wouldn't _be_ over until either Lucius Malfoy got his way, or he gave up. Draco didn't see either outcome happening any time soon.

"I've known men like him my entire life, Hermione," Dr. Granger said evenly, his eyes catching and holding hers. "He's been publicly humiliated, and he's angry. But _more_ 'scandal' is that last thing someone like him wants."

Draco frowned thoughtfully, having to admit that the muggle was right about that. Unfortunately, he just couldn't see how that translated to 'it's going to be all right'. An angry Lucius Malfoy was dangerous, especially a _thwarted_, angry Lucius Malfoy.

"He'll get his lawyers -- or whatever this world's equivalent are -- to look everything over, and when he discovers that you've all done everything 'by the book', he'll back off _publicly_." Dr. Granger turned toward him, then. "I'm afraid, I don't know him well enough to know whether or not he'll actually disown you, young man."

Draco swallowed, the possibility that he and Hermione had already discussed being talked about in front of everyone, more than a little disconcerting.

"It depends entirely on how much of his 'fanaticism' is real, and how much is public image."

"It's more than a slight possibility, Sir," Draco admitted, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. "Hermione and I already discussed the possibility when we were making our decisions."

"Please, call me Ian, young man," Dr. Granger offered. "We are family now, after all."

Draco paled. He was _family_ with **muggles**! Of course, he'd realized he would be all along, but it was only now that it was truly hitting him. It wasn't just his father that would consider him a 'blood traitor'. He nodded shakily, acknowledging the man's offer, but unable to actually _do_ it quite yet. It would take adjustment on his part . . . _more_ adjustment.

"As I was saying, to avoid scandal, he will most likely work 'behind the scenes' so to speak, quietly, to orchestrate the outcome he desires."

Draco blinked in surprise. As much as he hated to admit it, the muggle was probably right. What he didn't understand, was how a muggle could possibly know that.

"As long as we are careful, keep extra protection on the two of you -- three, eventually -- we should be able to . . . outwait him. Hermione's mother and I will, of course, do everything in our power to help protect you both."

Draco wasn't sure how much good that would do; though, he did appreciate the idea. He nodded again, managing a rather wan smile.

"Of course, we will," Mrs. Granger assured.

"As to that," the headmaster said, joining them, "the first thing we need to do, is get this paperwork signed." He held out the bonding parchment and quill to Hermione.

She took it in her still trembling hands and with a single deep breath, signed it.

Draco accepted it when she handed it to him and he was surprised to find that he, too, was shaking a bit. He had no clue why; though. They were already bonded, this paperwork was a mere formality. Under ordinary circumstances, its sole purpose was so that the ministry knew about the change in familial status. The only reason it was more important now, than usual, was simply to make sure there was absolutely nothing that his father could manipulate to his advantage, even temporarily. 'Temporarily' was all the wizard would need if he got them into his possession.

He signed, handing the parchment off to Dr.-- Ian.

The man signed with a flourish, then held out the parchment. "Is the order of signing important?" he asked.

Professor Snape stepped forward, reaching for the parchment. "Yes," he replied. "As Draco's father figure, I need to sign next. After I've done so, then Miss-- Mrs. Granger's witness must sign, and after Draco's witness, Headmaster Dumbledore, as officiator, must sign."

Professor Snape frowned, as he brought the quill toward his signature line, but signed and handed it off. Unfortunately, the frown did not lesson as he watched the parchment continue to be passed around.

That worried Draco. What had just occurred to his godfather that wouldn't have already? He, too, watched as the parchment passed from Professor Snape, to Potter, to Greg, and then to the Headmaster. It was the headmaster's dismayed, 'oh, dear!' that clinched it for him, though. Something had gone wrong with the bonding, something that showed on the parchment that _he_ hadn't seen. "What's wrong?" he asked, not sure he actually wanted to know, just that they needed to. Hermione's nearly duplicate question was only a second behind his.

The headmaster had everyone's full attention, but hesitated before replying. "It is a matter of some . . . delicacy," he said, "perhaps--"

"Harry and Ron know everything," Hermione said, interrupting.

Professor Snape growled lowly, but the headmaster simply nodded.

Draco drew in a deep breath. "Greg and Vince do as well." He got the explosion he was expecting.

"What?!" demanded, Hermione, Potter, and the Weasel.

"Idiot," Professor Snape muttered under his breath.

Draco took exception to that.

"He made us take a wand oath of secrecy first," Greg offered into the resulting mayhem, which silenced everyone.

Draco wasn't focused on anyone but Hermione. At this point, her opinion was the one that matter. He watched as her expression changed from anger mixed with outrage to wary acceptance and he breathed a sigh of relief. She may not like that they knew, but at least she didn't appear to be going to overreact.

"At least he did that much," Professor Snape muttered.

"Very well, then," the headmaster continued, only to be interrupted yet again.

"Does this have to do with why Hermione's and Draco's signatures are different colors?" D-- Ian asked. "I'd wanted to ask what that was about."

Before the headmaster could say anything in response, the Weasel jumped up, grabbing Potter's arm. "We don't need to be here for this discussion," he said, his face red, and began dragging Potter away.

Greg and Vincent didn't need anyone to convince them to leave, they did so on their own.

Sputtering all the way Potter allowed the Weasel to pull him away, only stopping his protests when the Weasel said he'd explain.

"Well, then," Mrs. Granger said brightly as the doors closed behind the four of them. "Now that the room as been almost cleared, what's this about?"

This time, Madam Pomphrey forstalled the headmaster. "I don't think I should be hearing this," she said, turning as she spoke. "I'll be in the infirmary, when you children are ready for the requisite after pictures."

"Minerva," the headmaster said, turning to the deputy headmistress, "perhaps you could arrange with the house elves for a bonding feast?"

Professor McGonagall frowned, her mouth pinched tightly closed. It was obvious she didn't like being oh-so-subtly asked to leave. "As you wish, Albus," she huffed, turning away as she spoke.

No one else said anything until the five of them were alone.

"As has been mentioned before," the headmaster began carefully, "the traditions we evoked today are ancient. The parchment reflects the values that were set into the rituals at the time they were devised."

Draco silently urged the headmaster to just get on with it. Anyone could see that Hermione and her parents were both getting _very_ worried.

"We get it," Mrs. Granger snapped. "What _precisely_ is the problem here?"

"The problem, while ordinarily no problem at all," Dumbledore replied, turning to face Hermione, "is that your daughter is . . . pure."

"Pure?"

"What he's trying to say, Dear," Mrs. Granger, "is, that parchment is announcing to all and assundry that she's a virgin."

"Well, of course, she is," Ian replied huffily -- with all the certainty of fathers everywhere that _their_ daughter was -- and always would be -- innocent. "What's the prob-- Oh!"

"Yes, quite," the headmaster replied. "How did she 'get pregnant' if she's never . . . 'played' so to speak."

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes at that, and Draco nearly laughed. He was beginning to think he might be able to really like her. She seemed very . . . down to earth, in a muggle sort of way.

"Well, the wedding night should take care of that little foible," she said bluntly.

Hermione blushed.

Draco did as well, as much as he didn't wish to admit it. One did _not_ talk about sex with a girl _with_ the girl's parents! It just wasn't done!

The headmaster's eyes danced at that. "Be that as it may, it won't, unfortunately, solve the problem."

"It won't?" Mrs. Granger asked. "Why not?"

"Mum!"

"Hush, Dear."

Hermione's jaw dropped and it was all Draco could do not to fall into fits of laughter. He suspected, however, that it wouldn't go well for him if he did. He kept his reaction down to twitching lips, and he lowered his head to hide even that reaction.

"As I said, the parchment reflects the value of the times--"

"In which it was devised, yes. Get on with why the wedding night won't solve the problem.

Professor Snape chuckled then, and when Draco turned to look at him his eyes matched those of the headmaster's usual; though, he could still see serious concern behind the amusement.

He had to admit, he didn't know why that wouldn't solve the problem, not that it wouldn't create its own set of new problems, considering neither of them had planned on a 'wedding night' as such.

"The times required the woman to be a virgin on her bonding day. The man, of course, was expected not to be. Both circumstances are reflected in the color of their signatures. Since we switched the roles they played, this is exactly as it is supposed to appear. Hermione as the 'groom' is not required to be a virgin, Draco as the 'bride' should have been. Of course, he has already been married, so that alone, will not invalidate the bonding. Unfortunately, even should they consummate this marriage, the color of Hermione's signature will still not match Draco's as it will reflect that the loss of virginity occurred _after_ they bonded."

"Shit!" was Mrs. Granger's blunt response. Ian was oddly silent, looking extremely uncomfortable with the whole conversation.

"What about a time turner?" Hermione asked suddenly, startling Draco.

The headmaster turned to Hermione, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know. It is possible that might work."

"But you're not sure?"

"No, I'm sorry, Hermione, I am not."

"So, while, these two use this 'time turner' -- Which I suppose does what its name suggests? -- the rest of us figure out how to cover this up, if it doesn't work," Mrs. Granger declared.

_Wait a minute!_

The headmaster nodded. "Essentially," he replied easily.

"Where can we get a time turner?" Professor Snape asked. "The last I heard, the ministry's time turners had all been destroyed."

_You're supposed to be on __**my**__ side!_ Draco protested silently, turning betrayed eyes on his godfather.

Hermione ducked her head -- An action that caught Draco's immediate attention. -- and sheepishly pulled on the chain he'd seen around her neck several times. At the end of it was a bloody time turner! _Where'd she get that?!_

"Excellent, Hermione," the headmaster praised, smiling.

"Wait a minute!" Draco said, finally finding the vocal chords that shock had stolen. He had everyone's instant attention. It was Professor Snape who spoke, however, and Draco wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk from his face.

"Is there a problem, Draco?" he asked, "something we have failed to think of?"

_Yes, there's a __**problem**__!_ Draco thought incredulously, but didn't say. _Neither of us want to have sex -- with each other!_ "No, Sir," he replied sullenly, "it's just this is all moving so fast," he improvised. He sure as well wasn't going to explain what was really wrong. What bloke _ever_ thought sex was a problem?

Even as the headmaster nodded _sympathetically_, Draco's godfather leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Sometimes, Draco, sacrifices have to be made to ensure your loved ones' safety," he said, his voice so quiet, Draco could barely hear him. It was certain no one else could. "You simply have to decide which is more important; your memory of your dead wife, or your child's life."

Draco slumped. As blunt and hurtful as his godfather's words were, he was right.

"I know what will work," Ian said into the considering silence.

"You do?" Professor Snape drawled, his tone pretty much the definition of disbelief.

Draco had to admit, he agreed with the professor. What could a muggle come up with that could fool wizards?

"Yes; though, I have to admit," he said, throwing an apologetic glance toward his daughter, "it won't paint Hermione in a very . . . charitable light."

"That doesn't matter, Dad," Hermione said, smiling at her father. "What matters is that no one finds out how I _really_ ended up pregnant."

"It would also paint Draco, here, as somewhat . . . naive."

_Him? Naive?_ He wasn't sure anyone would buy that.

"Most young men are when it comes to women," Professor Snape replied bitterly, and Draco had to wonder if that was personal experience talking.

"Very true," Ian agreed, nodding to the professor. "If it works, it will even give them time to," he paused, his expression morphing to distaste, "_become aquainted_ in their own time."

"Really?" the headmaster asked, leaning forward in, apparently, delighted interest. Even Professor Snape seemed far more intently interested than he had been.

Ian nodded.

"Well," Professor Snape snapped, "what's this idea of yours?"

"Artificial insemination," he replied bluntly.

_arti-what?_

The wizards present all frowned -- Draco included. Hermione and Mrs. Granger, however, did not.

Mrs. Granger grinned. "Brilliant, Ian!"

"But, how would I have got hold of, well," Hermione stammered, blushing brightly, "the essential ingredient?"

_What the bloody hell are they talking about?_ He kept his mouth shut, hoping the continuing conversation would clue him in, without him having to reveal his ignorance.

"By nefarious means, obviously, Dear," Mrs. Granger retorted, grinning. "Young man," she continued, turning to face him.

"Draco, please," he offered.

"Jane," she offered in return, "or mum, if you're comfortable with it."

Draco blinked, surprised at the offer. He nodded, though.

"If I understand the situation from this summer, Hermione spent time with you both, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes, she and Kathryn became friends fairly quickly."

"At the time, you were all cut off from the wizarding world, yes?"

Again he nodded. "Yes, we couldn't afford for anyone to know where we were, not until we could return to school." _Not that it worked,_ Draco thought bitterly.

"Anything could have happened."

Draco frowned, not sure where this was going. They couldn't pretend that he and Hermione'd had an affair. It was her virginity that was the problem, not the potential paternity of the child.

"Would anyone question the idea that you might have got drunk?" Ian asked. "Perhaps because of all the stress you were under?"

"No," he replied honestly. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd done so. Firewhiskey had been smuggled into the Slytherin dorms several times since he'd been a student here and he had partaken more than once.

"What I propose," Jane continued, "is this--"

_Mum?_ Draco tested the title out in his mind, wondering if he _could_ call her that. It wasn't like he'd ever called his own mother that. He'd always called her Mother, just as he'd always referred to his father as Father.

"I thought this was my idea," Ian interrupted.

"No, Dear. I'm springboarding from your idea to a better one."

Ian sighed. "She's always like this," he complained, but even Draco could see the complaint was voiced with affection.

"Must be where Hermione gets it," Draco offered, then frowned, wondering why he'd jumped into the conversation at all.

The Grangers and the headmaster laughed. Even Professor Snape snorted.

Mrs. Granger grinned at him. "The bonus with my idea is that we skirt the issues of illegalities of your idea."

"But you don't know what my idea was," Ian protested.

"Yes, I do."

"You were going to suggest that Hermione, somehow, managed to get hold of his sperm--

"My _what_!?"

"--inserted it into herself, purposely getting pregnant, in order to trap the young man into . . . well, providing support, I suppose, and ended up hoist on her own petard."

"Well, yes," he admitted, "essentially."

"Yes, well, we're trying to keep her _out_ of prison."

"Good point."

At this point, not only was Draco absolutely mortified by the bluntness of the conversation between the two muggles, his jaw was sagging close to the level of his knees!

Professor Snape reached over and closed his mouth with a single finger under his chin.

Draco frowned at him, an expression that deepened to a glare when he took in the outrageous smirk twisting the mans' own mouth. He was getting entirely too much amusement out of this situation!

"So how do we get around the fact that they didn't . . . do anything?" he asked pointedly, smirking at his wife.

She smirked right back, continuing with her explanation. Only this time, it was directed toward her husband, instead of them. They just got to hear it as well.

"I'm sure you're aware that penetration isn't absolutely necessary for conception to occur," she lectured.

"It isn't?" he exclaimed, then clamped his mouth shut.

"The little wigglies can get there all on their own," she continued, not appearing to have even heard him, "under the right circumstances."

Draco choked. _Little wigglies?!_

"Of course," Ian replied. "He would just have had to ejaculate near . . . well . . . the . . . "

"We get the idea, Ian Dear," Jane grinned, letting Hermione's father off the hook.

Draco could _not_ believe this conversation. It was such an . . . odd mixture of overly clinical with nearly mute embarrassment.

"Our story should be this; they got drunk one night and got . . . carried away."

Draco listened in absolute horror as his _mother-in-law_ described a situation where he couldn't even hold himself off until he was at least _inside_.

"But that's _humiliating_!" he protested before he could stop himself.

Laughter erupted around him. "Surely we can--"

"I was thinking more along the lines of frottage, Dear," Jane replied, sounding sympathetic.

"Oh," he replied, "that's not so bad, then." He nearly gaped at his own response. He _so_ could not wait until this conversation was over with!

"Well, then," the headmaster said, drawing everyone's attention. "Glad that's settled. That will give them a full month before Lucius can use non-consumation as a legal way to annul the bonding. That is the traditional length of time allowed to get arranged couples the chance to 'become aquainted'."

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback is always greatly appreciated

AN: How's that for reversing around the idea about a dozen times?? hehe


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful and supportive reviews, they've kept me going over the last couple weeks

AN: If you're interested in seeing pictures of the home I've chosen as Hermione's parents'. Check here. : )  
http : // kiristeen . 6te . net / hp / baby /  
(Remove the spaces, of course. : ) )

My website is not completely up yet -- by any stretch of the imagination -- but I'm getting there. LOL

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Chapter Seventeen  
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Hermione sighed in relief as the door to their new quarters closed behind them. It had been an incredibly _long_ day and she was very glad it was over. She turned to face her new husband, and almost laughed. He looked like she felt. He was leaning back against the closed door, his eyes closed and his shoulders slumped in weariness. She winced.

"I hope my parents didn't shock you too much," she said, feeling a little sympathetic. Her parents could be a little much sometimes, especially for people who didn't know them well.

Draco snorted in laughter. "I don't think shock quite covers it," he replied, shaking his head; though, he was smiling a bit. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "Are they always so . . . direct?"

Now, Hermione laughed. "Mum is," she told him. "Dad is usually the more conservative one."

"Merlin!" Draco breathed, now very worried. "_That's_ conservative?" No wonder the muggleborn students were so easy to pick out from the crowd!

Hermione laughed again. "Well, no, that was him stretching his limits. I get my bluntness from Mum and my love of books and learning from Dad."

"Oh, good," he replied, sighing. "You know, if your mother came from a wizarding background, I think she would have done well in Slytherin, despite her bluntness."

Hermione gaped at him. That was high praise indeed, coming from him.

"That would actually work in her favor, it really covers up a very subtlely devious mind."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. That was a good description of her mum. "And my dad? He would have fit in quite well in Gryffindor."

Draco snorted. "So . . . what? We're just following family tradtion, then?"

Laughing a third time in as many minutes -- something that still felt odd to her, at least in response to something Draco said -- she nodded. "I guess you could say tha--" A yawn cut off her words. "Sorry."

Draco shrugged. "It's been a long day," he admitted.

She nodded her agreement, taking the time to look around the common room -- anywhere but at Draco. It was about a third the size of the one for Gryffindor, but then, it was designed with only two people in mind, so she supposed it was actually quite big. "And school starts tomorrow," she said absently, beginning to explore. The first door she tried led to a bathroom. She gaped. It looked _heavenly_. It wasn't nearly the size of the prefect's bathroom, but the idea of having to share it with only one other person, made it beyond perfect. The tub was certainly big enough for-- She cut off that line of thinking and abruptly turned away from the room.

The only other door led to a bedroom. She blushed as she stepped inside it. It only had one bed.

"We should get to sleep," Draco called from the main room. "Somehow, I don't think tomorrow's going to be any shorter, what with needing to go to your house before leaving for the Hogwarts Express."

Hermione didn't answer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, coming up behind her. "Oh!" he answered himself.

He was silent a moment. "We can handle this," he said decisively, slipping past her. "If we can't handle lying in the same bed," he continued, "I don't hold out much hope for the rest of our marriage."

"Good point," Hermione replied, shaking her head. She really shouldn't have expected anything different. They were married, after all -- a rather mind boggling thought that she had not, as yet, had time to truly digest. Besides, if either of them were to have guests, two beds would look odd, considering. "Start as we intend to go on, then?" she asked, making her way toward the dresser.

"Exactly," Draco replied.

Hermione darted into the bathroom the moment she had her night things collected, undressing there. She briefly contemplated taking a shower, but realized she was merely stalling. She'd had one just before she'd dressed for the bonding. All too soon she was ready for bed. She bit her lower lip, staring at the door between the bathroom and the bedroom, unsure of the protocol. If they'd married for the more usual reasons it wouldn't really matter, but this was different, and she really didn't fancy walking in unannounced on a half undressed Draco Ma-- _Eep!_ Granger. Draco was a _Granger_! It didn't seem real.

Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door and waited.

Draco called out almost the moment she'd done so. "Come in."

Awkward half-grins and complete silence were exchanged as the two climbed into the single queen-size bed, Draco waving the light off before setting his wand on the bedside table. Hermione pulled the covers up practically to her ears, hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt. She didn't dare look over at her bedmate -- even if she wouldn't be able to see him all that well.

They both lay flat on their backs, a rather large space separating them. They passed several minutes in absolute stillness and silence before Hermione giggled suddenly, clamping her hand over her mouth in horror.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked in the darkness and Hermione could hear a hint of laughter in his voice.

She shook her head. "We're being silly," she replied, hesitating then rushing forward, "and it just struck me as funny."

"We are, aren't we," Draco agreed, chuckling now. "I mean, I've carried you to the loo, of all places. We've slept in the same room before. We should be able to sleep in the same bed without any problems."

Hermione grinned, nodding. She rolled onto her side, determined to face the man in her bed. She grinned when she realized he'd just finished rolling on to his side as well. She swallowed heavily, her grin fading a bit as the full weight of reality settled in on her. "It's different now, though. Isn't it?" She could just make out Draco's nod.

"Yeah, it is. It . . . feels that way, anyway."

"Merlin, Draco," she breathed, slightly panicked suddenly. "We have to face the other students tomorrow!"

Draco let out an explosive breath in response. "Well, we just have to stick to the plan and make them think we wanted this all along."

Hermione's chest warmed at his wording. Before she could truly enjoy the feeling, however, a new thought hit her. "Um, Draco?"

"What?"

"We've got one more problem."

Draco sighed. "What have you thought of now?"

"If we're sticking to the 'we got married in June' story, how come we haven't had sex yet?"

"Bloody hell!" Draco exclaimed. "That blows the headmaster's 'month' to shreds!"

Hermione nodded, waiting, sure Draco could come up with an answer. He _was_ Slytherin after all. If he didn't, though, she would. She was not about to end up under Lucius Malfoy's control for even a moment.

x-x-x

Professor McGonagall was leading them to the suite in which they were going to spend the night. "This place is incredible," Jane told the austere woman. "I think I might envy my daughter the chance to attend school here, just a little."

The professor smiled at that. "It is a very magical place, Madam Granger," she replied. "It opens the children to so many new experiences, ones they couldn't get anywhere else."

"The architecture alone is absolutely fascinating," Ian said and Jane smiled softly. That was her husband's hobby, obsession really.

"Hogwarts is over a thousand years old, founded by the four witches and wizards, for whom the four houses are named."

Jane smiled at her husband as they listened to Hogwarts' history, his full, rapt attention on the woman's words. It was a full hour later before her husband let the woman leave.

Jane leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. "Our baby's married," she whispered faintly. It just didn't seem possible. She was so young, not even 18 yet.

"Yes, she is," Ian replied just as quietly, barely breathing the unbelievable words. "She's going to be a mother."

Jane could feel the grin as it formed on her husband's face.

"You're going to be a grandmother."

Jane pulled back suddenly, mock slapping his arm and pouting. "Don't forget, _you're_ going to be a grandfather."

The grin she could now see, widened even more. "So I am," he replied, leaning forward and capturing her mouth with his.

x-x-x

"Well, that went about as expected," Albus said as he sat behind his desk.

Severus snorted. Yes, Lucius had acted precisely how they had predicted. Thankfully, they had covered every immediate loophole. Now it was up to the two newlyweds to make sure the rest were closed in time. "I think that Dr. Granger was right about his future actions, as well," he replied, instead of voicing his thoughts.

Albus nodded. "Agreed. Lucius is not one to beat his head against the wall." Albus chuckled before amending, "at least publicly."

Smirking, Severus nodded. The smirk faded almost as quickly as it had come, however. "Those two have a long rode ahead of them."

"Indeed, they do, Severus," Albus agreed, "but, you have to admit, if any two people are stubborn enough to make it work, it's those two."

Severus laughed, just as he was certain Albus had wanted. "How long do you think it will take Lucius to discover our little . . . glitch?" he asked, knowing it wouldn't be very long. The Malfoys had a cadre of lawyers working for them at all times, and he suspected that almost every one of them would be working on finding a way out of this for the wizard.

Albus shook his head, his amusement dying quickly. "Not long. I've got 48 hours before I must file the bonding parchment at the ministry and I intend to use every second of that."

Severus nodded knowingly. "Good idea. I doubt it will be more than 12 hours after it's filed before he discovers Miss-- Mrs. Granger's . . . status."

"Agreed," Albus replied, "but it will at least give them over two days in which to breathe."

Snorting, Severus shook his head. "I highly doubt the other students will allow them that," he denied, arching a challenging eyebrow at the older wizard.

"Well, if nothing else, tomorrow should prove very . . . interesting."

"I never thought I would see the day that _I_ would look forward to the start of term, but I find myself anticipating the two of them setting this school on its collective ear."

Albus laughed, then. "Yes, that should be quite entertaining at that," he said, then sobered. "The delay will also give us time to get area appropriate wards up on the Granger's home."

Severus almost smirked. He was looking forward to seeing the order's reaction to the Grangers' home. The chit certainly had almost never given off that 'old money' vibe. Her father certainly had, though. He had handled Lucius Malfoy like a professional. "Will I be assisting with the wards?" he asked.

"If you like," Albus replied.

"What all are you planning on putting up?"

"A modified wizard repelling field, a dark mark barrier, an anti magic-detection shield, anti-floo, apparation, and portkey wards, as well as making the place unplottable."

Severus' eyebrow crept upward as the list of wards grew. "So, basically, you're making the place pretty much impenetrable, as well as disallowing underage magic use detection?"

Albus grinned, popping a sherbert lemon into his mouth. "Precisely," he replied. "The underage magic use is academic in any case. Mrs. Granger will be of age a few days from now, and as her husband, Mr. Granger's age does not apply.

_Mr. Granger,_ that was very . . . odd in relation to his godson. He shook off the thought, knowing he would get used to it sooner or later. "Of course the floo and portkey wards will be tied to a password release, so they can escape should the worst happen."

Severus nodded. He had expected as much. That last was fairly standard in this type of situation and had, in fact, become all too commonplace during the last two 'wars' with the dark lord. "What time will we be leaving?" he asked, rising. He knew it would be early, what with school starting tomorrow.

"Five AM."

Severus groaned, knowing now that he wouldn't get much sleep tonight, but there wasn't much he would miss this for.

x-x-x

Standing beside him, Albus Dumbledore smiled broadly, his eyes dancing with humor brighter than usual. "Well, I say," he offered merrily, "this place will be far easier to protect than I anticipated."

Severus snorted his agreement to the vast understatement. The house itself sat nearly dead center of at least thirty acres of forested, nearly untouched wildlands. As near as he could tell only the center five acres or so had been cultivated; though, it made up for that by being as cultivated as any pureblood estate had ever been cultivated. It was impressive when one stopped to think that it had all been done without charms or spells of any sort. The beautiful grounds spoke of hours upon hours of pure, hard, physical labor. Added to that very handy privacy feature, the entirety of the estate was surrounding by good, solid, stone fencing. Stone held wards and shielding far better than any other material bar metal -- and the gated entrance to the Granger estate was wrought iron, and would tie the fencing wards together into a nice, neat package.

Filius and Minerva were still a bit shocked at the size of both the home and the estate, something that had Severus smirking -- though, he kept that private for now. Tonks, on the other hand, was gaping openly.

"Did anyone else know that Hermione was rich?" she asked, once she managed to get her jaw to function.

Minerva shook her head, chuckling a little. "No, but I imagine Mr. Ma-- I mean, Mr. Granger will be pleasantly surprised.

Severus laughed at that. He'd been present the moment that his godson had realized that Miss Granger wasn't exactly two steps from the poorhouse. Even so, he was reasonably certain that the young man had no clue that he'd married into a family that was as well off as the one he'd married out of. He didn't see him able to understand the concept of muggles being as rich as pureblooded wizards; it simply didn't mesh with what the young man had been taught about them.

Severus returned his attention to Albus as the wizard began doling out 'assignments' and order members began spreading out to begin casting the wards. They would complete the anti-transportation wards, the magic detection shield, along with the dark mark barrier -- with him as an exclusion -- before the Grangers, both sets, arrived. The family would need to be present in order to key them into the other wards so they weren't repelled from their own home -- or kept from finding it. Of course, the 'unplottable' magic tended to prevent magical means of finding the place, not muggle ones, so that probably wouldn't be a problem in any case.

x-x-x

"Just to make sure I've got this right," Draco began, as they were getting ready to head to breakfast. "We _wanted_ to get married in June, which is why I sent the message to Greg."

Hermione simply nodded.

"Unfortunately, we ran into problems, muggle technicalities that prevented us from following through."

Again, Hermione nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"What technicalities? Sixteen is the age of consent in the muggle world right?"

"Yes, it is, but there are other legalities that have to be followed," Hermione explained, "blood tests that have to be completed, a license that has to be purchased. Also, the fact that you don't have muggle identification wouldn't help. In fact, that alone, might have been enough to stop us."

Draco frowned. "Identification?" he asked. "You mean like a witness who knows who I am?"

"No, it's legal paperwork that _proves_ who you are, so you can't just pretend to be anyone."

"Why would anyone try to do that?" he asked, confused. "It would be so easy to figure out the truth."

"You're forgetting, Draco; the muggle world isn't anything like the wizarding one."

Draco snorted. He had _really_ not forgotten that!

"For one thing," Hermione continued, oblivious to his incredulous thought, "there are literally billions of muggles. The only way to keep them all sorted out -- legally speaking -- is to have proof that everyone accepts. Also, there are cases of more than one person having the same name. There can be five, sometimes more, people in the same city with the same name -- at the same time. So, muggle ID has your picture, name, age and address on it -- all of which has to be proven before you can get the id in the first place. You're assigned a number that the rest of your personal information is tied to, like when exactly you were born, where, and to whom."

Draco frowned thoughtfully as he listened to his new wife explain just what it took to actually _get_ identification in the muggle world. It sounded like a pain in the arse to him, and was even more grateful for being born a wizard than he'd ever been. He couldn't even imagine billions of people, not truly. Besides, his small taste of 'going muggle' this summer had been enough to last him a lifetime. He _liked_ magic and could not imagine living his life without it at his beck and call -- any time he wanted to use it.

As far as he was concerned, however, it seemed a workable plan, as long as the senior Grangers believed it would work. They were certain to know, after all. Opening the door to their suite, he waved Hermione through. Together, they made their way up to the great hall; though, Draco paused at the doors, for just a moment, to square his shoulders and take a deep breath. He nodded firmly to Hermione, ready as he would ever be to face the muggles who were now his 'in-laws'.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Definitely craved

AN: I'm finally beginning to recover from being sick. So, hopefully, no more really long delays between chapters.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: I apologize for the long delay - _again_ - and have no truly valid excuse for it beyond the fact that the words just refused to come. I figured better a good chapter later, rather than stilted nonsense sooner. I do hope this chapter makes up for the wait. Thanks. Kiri**

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Chapter Eighteen  
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Draco pushed around the last of his breakfast, not really hungry in the first place. Today the other students would be back at Hogwarts and he really wasn't looking forward to their arrival. He was just glad that as married students they had their own set of rooms, completely separate from either of their houses. He would not like to have to sleep with the other Slytherins after having married a muggleborn. Somehow, he didn't think it would be a pleasant experience, all around. He frowned. It wasn't as though they all were death eater wanna-bes, but enough of them were to make things . . . difficult. The dark lord was pretty much a taboo subject in the house of the snake, since no one could be sure whose side who was on. Only those who had already received the mark might know some of the students allegiances - but Draco seriously doubted anyone still in school actually _had_ received it. Dorm living and communal showers - barring prefects - made hiding such a thing beyond difficult.

"Ready?" Ian asked quietly.

Draco jumped at the question, but nodded. It was best to get it over with; though, it seemed a lot of trouble to go to _just_ to turn around and leave in a couple hours to catch the Hogwarts Express. He almost said as much, but decided against it. From what he understood, several of the professors were already there waiting, warding the house or some such. He was just glad that both of Hermione's parents had agreed that their explanation of delay was completely plausible. It gave the two of them much needed time before it became necessary to consumate their marriage - neither of them was ready for that at the moment.

A shiver ran down his spine as he stood and helped Hermione climb over the bench. He _really_ hoped they put up some powerful wards, or this marriage just might be as short lived as his first - not something he wanted to happen. He really didn't think he could handle losing another wife so soon after Kathryn. This time, the baby would die as well. He sincerely doubted there would be another person willing to do what Hermione had done.

The knowledge that this time, he, too, would probably die, did nothing to settle his nerves.

"Professor Snape provided us with a portkey," Ian offered as he and Mrs - Jane - Mum- Draco shook his head. He'd figure out what to call her later. "Ian held out a brass goblet, and the moment all four of them were touching it, it activated.

Seconds later, he stumbled as the portkey released them all. He grabbed hold of Hermione the moment they all appeared, preventing her from falling. In his preoccupation with keeping Hermione upright and stable, it took Draco several moments to take in his surroundings. When he did, however, shock struck him. If he hadn't known better, he could swear he was standing in the foyer to one of the Malfoy homes - not that it exactly _looked_ like any of the homes he'd set foot it, it simply _could_ be one. He blinked a couple of times as he took in the tasteful elegance surrounding them. He wasn't entirely certain just what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this, not in the slightest, not even after discovering that Hermione had money. She may have spoken of a 'trust fund', but he knew a lot of people with trust funds whose families didn't like in a place that would have an entry way like this!

To be honest, he'd actually assumed that her secondary account would have been pretty much wiped out with the br- groom price, but now, he wasn't so sure. It was odd to be, once again, completely re-evaluating his situation, and his assessment of one Hermione Granger. Only this time, he was suddenly finding himself in the postion of needing to re-evaluate more than just his new wife, but rather her people as well.

_Your people, now,_ the little voice of his conscience piped up. _You swore so yesterday._

He ignored the voice - for now. None of it was truly real yet; though, he had no doubts it would all sink in soon enough. As it was, he'd never pictured _any_ muggles living in surroundings _he_ would have been comfortable in. _Is that what allows the magic to take hold?_ he wondered, frowning. _Some muggles rise above the others?_ Taking a deep breath, he leaned close to Hermione. "Do many muggles live like this?" he asked.

Cocking her head at him curiously, she frowned a bit. "Like what?"

Waving a hand in an arc around him, he shrugged, trying not to let his frustration that she hadn't immediately understood what he meant show. "Like _this_," he explained. "This wouldn't be out of place in one of the Malfoy homes."

Hermione's frown deepened a little as she too looked around, but just as Draco was losing hope she'd understand without him explaining even further, the frown disappeared and he watched as understanding lit up her expression. "Oh! Well, a lot of people with money do," she replied, bring her gaze back to rest on him. "Just like in the wizarding world, there are a wide range of lifestyles, Draco, both rich and poor."

Draco nodded in automatic response to her words, though, he wanted to ask more. He didn't, however, something in her voice warning him that he was treading on dangerous ground. Why it was dangerous, he had absolutely no clue; he just knew it was. Thankfully, Mrs. Gran- Jane interrupted them, moving Hermione's focus elsewhere.

"Hermione, dear, why don't you go show Draco where you'll be staying while you're not in school."

"Sure, Mum," Hermione replied and headed for the stairs. She stopped suddenly, however, and Draco nearly ran into her.

"Give a bloke a little warning next time," he groused.

"Sorry," she said absently, her attention _obviously_ not on him. "Mum!"

"Yes?"

"We'll need to do at least a little shopping before we head for King's Cross."

"We don't have much time, Hermione."

"Yes, Mum, I know. But most of Draco's stuff was burned up in the motel fire. He's gonna need stuff for school!"

Draco startled. He hadn't realized she had thought of that. Truth be told, he'd been a little too preoccupied to think of it. Now that he did, however, he knew he was in trouble. He had absolutely none of his school supplies - as well as virtually no clothing. Just a couple of things he'd bought to tide him over.

Hermione's Mother spun around, a horrified look on her face. "Are you telling me that Draco doesn't have clothes or school supplies, and you _didn't_ think to tell me **last night**;?"

Hermione ducked sheepishly. "I didn't think of it til just now, Mum."

"It's all right, Jane," Draco jumped in, proud of himself for his oh-so-casual use of her name. "I didn't even think of it until Hermione brought it up. Yesterday was kind of . . . full."

Beside him, Hermione choked on a laugh, muttering 'understatement' under her breath. He almost laughed in response, but managed not to. It wouldn't do to admit - this early in the game at least - that he actually found her comment funny.

"**Ian**!" Mrs. Granger shouted. "We've got to go shopping."

"Have fun, Dear," he shouted back.

Mrs. Granger huffed. "You don't get off that easy!" she yelled back, heading the direction of his voice.

Draco cast a worried look toward Hermione, but she simply shrugged, a crooked smile twisting her mouth upward. "That's just them."

He nodded, wondering how long it was going to take to get used to. His parents almost never shouted. If one of them did, he usually found a place to hide, because the fallout wasn't pretty.

When Hermione headed the same direction, he shot out a hand, but just missed grabbing hold of her arm. He stood where he was for several moments, debating the wisdom of staying or following. He was torn between the two opposites. One the one hand, Hermione knew her parents better than he did. On the other hand, she was a _Gryffindor_. In the end, he sighed and followed reluctantly behind her.

They joined Hermione's parents just in time to see Ian Granger slump in visible defeat. "Alright, you win, my dear. I'll go."

Draco was about to protest, saying it really wasn't necessary, but the moment Ian's back was to his wife, a mischievous smirk played over the man's mouth. It was then that Draco realized it was all just a game to the couple. Dr. Granger wasn't put out about it in the slightest. He almost laughed then, giving the game away, but he quickly schooled his features before Mrs. Dr. Granger could see him.

Hermione leaned in. "She already knows, Draco."

Draco jumped having forgotten she was there. The smirk on her face told him readily that she well knew it. He didn't respond, simply turning back to Dr. Granger.

"Well, let's go, my boy, we have clothes to get."

"And _we_," Mrs. Granger added, looking at Hermione, "will get his school supplies. We'll have to-"

"That won't be necessary, Dr. Granger."

"Oh!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed, jumping and shooting a hand to her chest. "You startled the daylights out of me, Headmaster."

Draco himself couldn't quite prevent his own spin in the direction of the headmaster's voice.

"My apologies, Dr. Granger. I was just letting you know that Professor Snape and I have already picked up young Mr. M- Granger's school supplies. All he needs for school are his robes."

"Well," Mrs. Granger exclaimed brightly, "that makes things easier, then."

"You mean I'm off the hook?"

Draco's eyes widened as it hit instantly what Ian Granger's words meant to him. He'd be clothes shopping, _alone_, with two females. He'd done that once before. Never again! "No!" he yelped, then almost cringed as he had everyone's full attention. He automatically pulled out the charm, smiling at the only other man present - under a hundred. "You can't walk out on your fellow man, can you?" he asked, remembering very well, Hermione's assessment of this man as belonging in Gryffindor.

From beside the headmaster, Professor Snape snorted, rolling his eyes - _And just when did __he_ show up? - but Draco didn't let that distract him. He was on a mission.

Eyes twinkling as madly as the headmaster's sometimes did, Ian Granger slumped dramatically, heaving a _very_ dramatic sigh. "You," he said pointedly, "don't play fair."

Draco smirked. Fair play was for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He played to win.

"That was definitely a low blow - well aimed, but low."

Draco's eyes widened slightly as he suddenly began to worry that he'd crossed some unknown line.

Dr. Granger laughed then, shaking his head as he stepped toward him. "Relax, young man. Sometimes low is the way to go. At least," he continued, shooting Mrs. Granger a smirking look, "so my wife tells me."

"You don't have a lot of time," Professor Snape said, cutting in before the banter could continue.

Draco found he was almost disappointed. It was quite interesting to see the dynamics between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who actually got along! There was a growing suspicion in the back of his mind that a Slytherin-Gryffindor team would be unstoppable. He didn't think he'd ever forget just how Mrs. Granger had taken Mr. Granger's reckless, jump-in-the-fire plan and turned it into something truly worthy of a Slytherin. The best of both worlds; reckless impulsiveness tempered with cunning and the right amount of caution.

As the thoughts swirled around his mind, everyone around him was preparing to go and it wasn't until the headmaster and professor were set to leave that a horrifying thought hit him. "Who picked out my potions supplies?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had suddenly transfigured yourself into a Gryffindor, Mr. Granger," Professor Snape sneered.

Draco cringed. He really _should_ have wondered about that earlier, he supposed. In his defense, however, it had been a very _long_ couple of days.

"I selected your potions supplies," the professor continued, much to Draco's relief.

"Thank you, Sir," Draco replied simply, not bothering to express his relief out loud. He needed to neither insult the headmaster by demeaning his abilities, nor insult his godfather by implying he needed to ingratiate himself to the man.

Professor Snape nodded once and the two older wizards took their leave. Draco could only assume that the wards had been dealt with and anything that needed passed on, had been. Unfortunately, he'd not been paying enough attention to know for sure.

x-x-x

Hermione slipped her hand through the crook in Draco's arm, as if they were stepping into some party or other. It was the only way she could think of to give him support, since she knew very well, he would resent the implication that he needed support of any kind, especially from her. He was hiding it fairly well, she had to admit. She could see well enough, however, that he was nervous about this.

He leaned close, whispering. "How do muggles control these things without magic to guide them?" he asked, and Hermione could hear a little bit of panic in his voice.

"How do you control a broom?" she asked back.

Draco frowned, looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "You know how it's done," he replied. "You took flying class."

"Exactly," Hermione replied, smirking.

"That _doesn't_ answer my question," he growled.

"Yes, it does. These cars are controlled by the people who drive them. Like you use your posture to regulate speed, they use the foot pedals. Like you use position to control direction, they use the steering wheel."

Draco head snapped away from her to stare at the car they were approaching, his expression approaching that of pure horror and panic. "You mean they use their hands and feet to control it!"

Hermione nodded.

"But," Draco protested, jerking to a stop, "what's to keep it from getting out of control?"

Hermione rolled her eyes; though, she really did sympathize. "Would you let your broom go out of control without something major happening to cause it?"

"No!" he huffed indignantly.

"Same thing."

"No," he denied firmly, "it's not!"

"It really is, Draco," she assured, valiently hiding her amusement. She really shouldn't be amused at Draco's expense. She certainly wouldn't appreciate someone laughing at her fears on a bloody broom. "You'll see," she added, really trying to help him feel better. There was just something so . . . child-like about being afraid of _cars_. It didn't help that it reminded her very forcefully of first year and the forbidden forest. Hermione was pretty sure she knew something that would get him in the car, however. Afraid he might be, but that wouldn't do anything to his competitive streak. She leaned close and whispered just a quietly as Draco's first question, assuring that no one else heard her. "Harry and Ron both ride in these things all the time."

Beside her, Draco stiffened, and she had to stifle another smile at his disgustedly muttered, "Gryffindors". He did start moving toward the car again, however, and said nothing further as they all got in. They only had one more iffy moment when she explained the seat belt - and what it was for. That hadn't exactly instilled a sense of confidence in him.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.


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